Saviour
by Isabella12300
Summary: You just got offered this amazing opportunity to improve your job performance. Everything goes as planned, when you suddenly bump into a celebrity. But when you realize it's actually Tom Hiddleston your knees start to shake. But it's just an ordinary day, right? Will the destiny reunite them or was this all pure coincidence? Tom/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everybody!**

**So the thing is I was just about to make a fanfic about some celebrity (okay, a hint: plays Loki) and when I browsed on the Internet about the lawsuit regarding including real people in your stories, it said that is better not to use real names, even though I see many stories including real names. I decided to switch names (I hope that helps) so instead of _that _celebrity, I'm gonna put this name **_Tim Huttington_ **(I know it's really lame and pathetic, but still. I hope you'll manage to imagine). I hope don't appear lame because of that. Maybe I'll change it if I see that it's actually quite normal to add real names into your story, but I'll see if there's even any feedback. Which I'd really appreciate :)  
Anyway, the whole story is mine. I made up all the characters, except I'll try to put some traits from the real celebrity into mine. That's my first fanfiction in English so I'd suggest some patience if there are some mistakes or bad expressions :)**

**So that's kinda it about the disclaimer part I guess, but I also have to warn you that the first or maybe first two chapters are gonna be focused on Julia Grady, my protagonist. She'll be kinda talkative about her past and a little bit about her future as well. She kinda has an intense past. I'm testing myself on the writing area itself as well, not only the 'juicy' part, although I've never done anything like that either. It's funny, how I came up with actually writing on here. I read so many superb fanfics (which I cannot even compare to) and I really got inspired. I had several dreams about Tom and some girl, just some basic, ordinary story, but I felt like I need to add something to it.**

**Okay, enough with the boring stuff. I just hope you'll enjoy my story (I don't really know yet how many chapters it will contain), try to equate with the character and post some reviews, any kind of feedback is welcome, really :)**

**Now, without further ado ... **

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It was probably around two AM in the morning when I woke up. The sky was still covered in complete darkness. The white sheets were drenched and my body was sweaty. I could feel the shirt stick to my back. "It was only a bad dream, Julia," I thought, trying to put myself to sleep again, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do that. Thoughts were getting out of hand and taking control of my mind, even though I resisted. Just these past few months really shook me up. I felt dizziness even though I was in bed. I felt sick. I immediately stood up and ran to the bathroom across the hallway. I felt like my stomach came out of my mouth. It didn't stop for another five minutes and when it finally did, I collapsed next to the toilet.

The memories rushed back up and I tried to hold them back, stuck them in the back of my mind where they're supposed to be. I already felt those big, rough hands sliding over my hips and I flinched as they were here again. I tried to push them away and was actually surprised when all I grabbed was plain air. I closed my eyes, trying not to feel a thing. I've successfully forced myself to be this distanced from my feelings for quite some time now, after the … Incident. No one could reach so deep inside my soul ever again and I was okay with that. I made a decision that I knew was only good for my sake. I started to feel my body ache due to very uncomfortable position I was in. I gathered the courage and strength to pick myself up, supporting my suddenly enormous weight on the toilet seat lid. I walked slowly to my bedroom in the darkness that embraced my flat. After all these months, I was still checking after corners in my own flat if there was anybody on the lookout. I guess some things can change you forever, even if you forbid yourself to be affected in any way. Even if you restrain from any kind of feeling, knowing, it'll only make you feel weak again. An easy prey. A piece of meat in someone's eyes. I couldn't let that happen again.

My alarm clock woke me up at six in the morning. Again, I awoke with such terrible headache I felt every pulse my body made. Each time I felt like my head is going to explode. I went to the doctors several times about the pounding in my head, but they assured me it's due to the injuries I suffered when being attacked. _Attacked. _I hated that word. I was humiliated, my world shattered into pieces of shame. But I understood. They just didn't wanted to say it out loud. They were afraid I was going to suffer another break down if they would. I confess it is an ugly word. _Rape. _Being that humiliated does leave a mark on you, and not only a physical one. The physical one makes you feel embarrassed in front of others, but the one creeping inside you makes you feel embarrassed in front of yourself. You can get the first one fixed any time. But to actually accept the one within you; that's true courage I have yet not been able to achieve.

I won't go through that again. Not today. For today is my day. I've been preparing for today for a very long time, to be honest since the day I first got the job. I still remember my first day like it was yesterday. The joy that overcame me when I got the news I'm hired. Getting the job I've always wanted to do – a journalist. And not the one that is writing boring columns in boring magazines. Oh no, I was going for more. I'm an actual journalist that travels around the world and is so lucky to experience all these new things. Each time I fly away to another country, an old piece of me dies and another one is born. And I'm both happy and a bit sad when leaving my home. But mostly, ready to explore new places, meet new people and get to know other cultures. I haven't been that much abroad since I've only been working in _The Weekly Traveller _for a few months. I haven't been expecting much of that either, actually all I really wanted was to settle down and do my job in peace. Didn't want to be an outcast that everybody would point at. But that was pretty much all that was happening at my work place after what happened to me. Only my closest friend Sarah Crawley stayed beside me when my world seemed to be falling apart. She belongs to that type of friends that you just find by coincidence and once you do, you realize what a blessing they are. You don't need to lose them before you realize how much they mean to you.

I was headed to the bathroom and took a quick shower. I washed my hair as well. I wanted to look as fresh and prepared as I possibly could for this day. Once the lukewarm water hugged my trembling body, I felt I'm going to rock the office today. I felt nothing could stop me, really. Maybe it didn't suit my shy and innocent nature I seemed to give off. But I felt it in my bones. Today I'm going to be the boss.

I was all done within twenty minutes (which was probably my new record) and decided to eat some light breakfast, just that my stomach won't make weird noises during the interview. It wasn't really an interview though, it was more face to face conversation between my boss and I. I wasn't feeling that nervous at all. I was surprised myself, how I managed to keep my knees steady and my posture straightened all the way to the office. I didn't black out for a moment, like it was in my nature when facing serious things. I just kinda forget all the things I was about to say and, of course, I make a bad impression and the opportunity is lost.

I lived in Bloomsbury, in central London. I've always dreamed of being in the middle of the city throb and everyday rush. I think it's just my kind of thing, like an addiction. I liked observing people, but never like them in any other way, kind of despised them. I lost faith in humanity a while ago, although when I travel, I see so many beautiful things. So many wonderful and thoughtful gestures by ordinary people that brighten my day. Here, in London, I don't get much of that. That's why I want to travel so much. To escape the reality here, although my home really was here and it was always nice to come to a old familiar bed.

I was now passing the Great Russell Street. I always loved crossing that street, just near the museum. The sight of the confused tourist with cameras around their necks made me chuckle each time. But then I realized I'm no different when visiting some other country.

I walked along until I got to the Southampton Row where my office's headquarters were located.I checked my watch and realized I only have ten minutes left. I picked up the speed which was rather difficult thing to do if you wear your best black high heel shoes. I was only a few meters away from the main entrance, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I was still walking pretty fast, didn't realize I was almost running, whilst checking my phone. The sound of my high heels really irritated me, since I never wear heels. I was trying not to drag too much attention and not only because of my attack, but because I simply don't enjoy being in the centre of attention. Sounds a bit weird for a journalist, but I don't get to interview people here, in London, unless there's some really fascinating Indian or Chinese thing going on in the city. And even then I try to ask them some questions in private or quite the opposite: on a very crowded street. I'm pretty picky when it comes to these things. I like to let myself to my instinct.

Anyway, I was just stepping on the pavement when I heard a noise down the street. I fully replied to an email and then turned my head to the direction of the sound that was drawing nearer very fast. I didn't see anybody coming close, so I continued with my walking rhythm when suddenly I felt something hard bumped directly into my forehead.

"Ouch!" I screamed rather loudly.

And I did that on purpose, since I wanted to make that bastard feel guilty for bumping into me. Or was it me, who came across his way? I wasn't even sure how to address that person I crushed with, but I do assume it was a shoulder or an elbow and I don't think a woman can be either this high (considering I was 179 cm tall plus wearing eight cm tall heels) or having such strong and rough limbs.

I finally turned my angry gaze to the person next to me and was about to set off some juicy words against him, but went completely speechless when I realized who I actually bumped into. It was that actor that filled the papers in every news-stand. It was truly him. I even read about him this morning while I was sipping my freaking orange juice. He was right here, in front of my nose, completely real. I was trying to let out a few words, but my mouth instantly went dry and in a way I was thankful for that, because I was 100% positive I was going to say something completely idiotic. He replaced the awkward silence between us with a slight smile, just for being considerate and polite.

"I'm so very sorry, miss," he finally spoke and his voice was even deeper and charming in person.

He was a lot taller than I expected. Actually, I didn't expect anything since I never, in my wildest dreams, thought of randomly bumping into such celebrity as he is. I didn't know what to think or what do to. All I could think of in that very moment was that I was just about to faint from staring into those gorgeous blue eyes too long.

"I must dash now," he spoke tenderly and grabbed my shoulder gently. "Forgive me again, for crashing into you. Have a lovely day!" he almost yelled as he was already half on the main road.

All I was able to do right then was to watch him disappear into enormous crowd, which was, I must confess, a great cover for a famous actor. Walking alone in a street like he just did is way too risky. I glanced at my watch and noticed I'm already three minutes late. I gulped at the thought of losing this great opportunity. I was still in shock. I mean, who wouldn't be after meeting Tim Huttington himself.

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**Yeah, I know, I know, it sounds really tacky, soppy and predictable. I was trying to see where this goes and I'll wait a bit before writing the next chapter after I see the feedback, if there's going to be any. So this chapter is a bit short, not including much dialog, but I'll change that soon enough ;)**

**Till the next time,**

**xo,**

**Iza**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm sorry for the late update, but I actually went out yesterday night with some friends (I actually have a social life, I'm so proud). Sorry to burden you with my life problems, but here it is - the second chapter! I hope some of you were excited for the next chapter as me, and I hope you'll enjoy it. This one's a bit longer and I'm sorry in advance for some (probably quite frequent) mistakes. I'll try to fix and polish it until the end of the weekend :)**

**I won't hold you back any longer, I only have one "request" left. I'd really appreciate any kind of review on this one, any kind of comment on it would help me a lot. Not only with the writing style, but with managing the story as well :)**

**Now, without further ado ... **

* * *

I know I should have run to my office by now, but my feet seemed to stuck on the ground. I followed his figure blend with the crowd and watched him sign some autographs from time to time. I was still catching my breath after our little … Occurrence. But I managed to keep those girly feelings bottled inside, like I've done it so many times before. "It's London, one of the most popular cities in the world. Of course it's completely normal to run into a celebrity like that," I said to myself and ran through the huge wooden door. I stepped into the lobby, which was filled with businessmen, wandering around the place. I wasn't surprised, since this building was not meant only for my job, but several companies and branches were located here as well.

I stepped to the reception, where I found our receptionist Amy. "'Morning," I tried to stay cheerful and settled, yet I was gasping for air really loudly. "Has Mr Chapple already arrived?"

Mr George Chapple is my beloved boss. He's a funny little man. Or that is the first thought that occurs to you if you see him for the first time. If you work here for over six months, you already start to sense his sadistic and manipulative side. I understand, though, he is under constant pressure for being the main editor of the magazine, therefore his job is to push the slackers to their very edge to get an only three thousand page article about some runaway llamas. Thankfully, I was one of the rare who worked really hard, that's why he puts extra effort in insulting me and driving me crazy. That's how he forces me to write a long ass articles that none of them is capable of writing. He knows my weak spots and I know when he uses them and why. I try to oblige every time, but being the only hard-worker here can get really annoying. That's why I asked for a promotion. Of course, he agreed on the meeting and here I am now, desperately praying to god that I don't believe in, that he hasn't arrived yet.

My prayers must've been heard, because Amy shot me a gentle look and said: "No, he hasn't. But I suggest you run upstairs quickly, 'cause I think he will come any time now."

I was finally able to breathe normally again. I formed a silent 'thank you' with my mouth and she nodded in response. I grabbed my purse and coat and ran to my office. I glanced to other offices as well and saw everybody on their positions. Why was George late? He is never late, especially not on a Monday morning. I tried to ignore the rising panic within me and stayed calm. "There's no need to panic. Everybody's here, normally doing their job. Why can't I do mine?" spoke the voice inside my head. I shook my head to make it go away, but it only made my head hurt.

I fixed my black trouser suit, bought especially for this occasion. I collapsed in the wide leather chair near the long table and observed the passing co-workers. I recognized many of them, yet not noticing Sarah coming by. I guess she's stuck with some paperwork in her office Mr Chapple has given to her due today. She always forgets about work during weekends and I kinda envy her that competence. I wish I could turn my mind off of things I choose not to think of. It's easier to close your eyes on things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel.

Minutes were passing by and I was really starting to worry. Though the employees seemed to be doing just fine. I'd be happy if I were them as well, not seeing George's grumpy face as the first thing on Monday morning. It's like a recipe for disaster.

Just as I was about to set my mind of leaving the main office, I saw George rushing up the stairs. He was rather short and his suits were made by hand. I must confess he had a sense for fashion, putting that olive suit together with a nice, grey jacket. He was about to get bald (which was very odd for a forty year old man), but we all knew he was using products to grow some hair again. That's why when in public, he liked to wear hats. This time he was wearing a small black one, which was his typical for the start of the week. His round brown eyes started to search around the working space. I figured he was searching for me, since we agreed on the meeting ten minutes ago.

I stepped out of the office, pulling my phone into my pocket and yelled: "George!" I waved a bit, trying to radiate some positive energy.

But he knew me too well, that's why I didn't even bother to impress him. We both knew why we were here. When he heard my voice he turned around and shot me a humble smile. I could sense it he was pretty embarrassed to be late. It must've been something special that hold him up this long.

I moved a bit from the door, so he could enter. He threw his jacket on the chair, including his black leather briefcase. His actions were quick and rough, and I felt that he wanted to get over this pretty quick, to catch up with what he has missed.

"Please," he offered, pointing his hand to the chair and I obliged.

I swallowed a lump in the middle of my throat and tried to stay professional, like I am inside. I wasn't about to give away my nervousness like I usually do, but I was prepared for tough battle.

"So," he started rather loudly, his eyes wandering around the office. "Have you brought what I asked you to bring?"

He was staring into my blueish eyes and only after a few seconds I realized he was thinking of the files I brought from home. They were the reports of my loyal work since the day one and even though he followed my progress quite regularly, he wanted to make sure, once again, he wasn't making a mistake. I must confess, that we were pretty good friends, judging other typical relationships between bosses and employees. We were kinda on the same intellectual level, which was nice to come across from time to time. I guess the boss is expected to be an evil, sadistic genius, but to get along with one of his workers was not so frequent nowadays. These days they only care about the profit and marketing. But the bond between George and I was special, even he could feel it. Together we made this magazine a success and we both knew it was due to our great collaboration. I knew he doesn't want to lose me, since he has practically no one to replace me. I didn't think that highly of me, it's just that Sarah once mentioned it to me. She said she heard a private conversation about me between George and some high-society manager and she heard what a hard-worker I am. I guess others have heard of my reputation as well and were willing to pay me a handful of money just to work for them. But to be honest: despite George's occasional outbursts and his hot-blooded nature, I knew deep inside me I could never work as good as for George for someone else. It was just impossible and unimaginable.

I managed to pull the whole file out of my bag on the desk. We both sat in silence for a few seconds, when he finally spoke.

"Julia," he clenched his fingers and looked deeply into my eyes. Did I saw disappointment? "First of, I'm very sorry for being late. My daughter had to go to the doctors."

Sometimes it slipped my mind that George had a family, too. Though when he is at work, he tries to put his feelings aside. I only saw his daughter Olivia once, when he and his wife were in the middle of divorce and the little one insisted on staying with dad. He had no option but to take her with him to work. She has her mothers features, but her bravery and independence from her father. Everybody felt it.

"Second of, I really wanted to speak to you about this matter for quite some time. I'm glad you expressed the need about putting you onto higher position. You really do deserve it," he, again, devoted me a compassionate look, then grabbed the files.

"Just an ordinary procedure," he assured me, when talking the files to his eyes.

He grabbed his reading glasses and put on a deadly serious face. We both knew this "procedure" wasn't needed and that he could just assign me new article titles and a bit more spacious office to work in. I truly believe a good ambient is a number one condition for a well-done work.

As if he was reading my mind, he said: "I see no inadequate or unexplained absences, so no need to quarrel with you about that one," he said, chuckling.

But he was still nervously searching through the files. My cheeks were starting to get red. As is his wont, if he sets his mind on something, he'll do it. No exceptions. And if he set his mind on finding one slight mistake, one barely visible stain in my file, he'll definitely find it.

The beating of my heart slightly speeded up. My hands were getting sweaty and all I needed right now is his sad look and I'm done. My dreams would crush. Like I presumed, he picked his head up from the massive file. Even though I wasn't here for long, it was quite full. I occasionally happened to do some extra work.

After a while he put his glasses and files on the table between us. I saw he had difficulties making the following sentence, but I kept my courage. Feared the worst.

"Julia, I'm sorry for being so absent," he started. I could feel the tension in the atmosphere, but tried to ignore it. "I know you well. You know _me _well. I trust you and you trust me."

He was about to start his long speech about what a great team we make, how I was such a blessing to his magazine and how he does not want to lose me. But destiny has chosen so, and his hands are tied. I even imagined the whole scenario. Oh, he can be so dramatic sometimes.

"But there's one thing I especially cherish about you. It's your work ethics. It's something none of those apes possess," as he said the last word he made a grimace towards the workers passing by, filled with obvious disgust and contempt. I wasn't sure if I agree with him on this one, but after all: he is my superior and we're bound to disagree.

"What I'm trying to say is that I want to keep you this way. Your work has been amazing and I fear that putting you onto higher position might ruin your writing quality."

I was speechless. The things I feared only a minute ago seemed nothing comparing to this. Was he really that disappointed in me? To not want me took over a place I truly deserved? He even said it with his own words I deserve it, for Christ sake. I felt nothing but anger bursting inside me. I did not deserve this humiliation. I was just about to cut off this meeting, not having a slightest care about what George might now think about me. Because for all I knew, I wasn't ready for another let down. This was my break through and if he was jealous, that was his own problem. It's just the thing is, I really didn't know what the thing is, so I decided to solve this out in a proper way.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my voice filled with silent fury.

"It's just that I don't think the position you might take over would require your special skills. Your sixth sense for people, your natural adjustment to the nature surrounding you." He glimpsed towards me.

My heart went all soft and sentimental. But then a question popped inside my head: 'How did he know about all these things? He only knows the questions I ask people.'

He must have felt the doubt and confusion in my eyes and quickly responded: "Your crew is always taking photos, you know."

My cheeks went red immediately. But how did he know about these things? I always managed to get away from the camera's flashing lights capturing my face. But I guess they found a way somehow. After all, they are reporters. And he's the main editor of the magazine. He's bound to know all of our secrets.

"There's nothing wrong with your work, in fact, you're the one inspiring everybody here. I just want to remind you what a great job you've done here so far," he said and gave me a tender look and I couldn't help myself but feel proud inside. I was really working my ass off to get as far as I did. Sometimes small compliments and slight gratitude can do wonders to my inner satisfaction. I'm not allowed to expect much, so I go used to it. So it makes it even sweeter when it happens.

"Don't worry, I'll give you the promotion, like I promised. I hope you'll maintain your excellence you put in your articles and the passion that keeps you going."

He finally stood up and stretched out his arm to shake my hand. We ended this properly and professionally. I knew it would end like this. In fact, we both did, for sure. He just liked to get things straight, knowing he's doing the right thing. No matter how much or how long you try to convince him on things, he'll stick with his regular theory of wanting to see on his own. Maybe that's a promising quality for a boss, but occasionally it could drive you crazy.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'll give you some new titles for you to write," he said tenderly and I could sense excitement in his voice. I was very anxious to start as well. My fingers were practically burning, that's how eager I was to already start with new projects.

He passed me a giant file of papers and I gulped. I was aware that this whole 'next level' thing is going to be difficult as hell, but to be honest – I lived for that. I lived for losing myself in the subject and just let the words flow under my fingers. I was prepared for any kind of challenge. Even if the title won't be really in my style, I was open for new horizons. Because that's what your life is made of, isn't it? Being able to let yourself let things come into your life and you accepting them with your arms wide open. Even if it's not the best thing that could've happened to you. I believe that each thing is either a blessing or a lesson. There's a way of getting the best out of every thing. If you just whine about the things that happen to you, you may not be able enjoy the good ones anymore.

"Why, on this bloody Earth, would he give me _this _to write about?" I muttered disappointedly under my breath, when I went through some of the titles. But someone managed to hear me anyway.

"Who made the effort to piss you off already?" I heard a scornful voice behind the half open glass door.

Sarah was about the same height as me, although I personally believed she was much more beautiful. She had blond, shoulder-length naturally-beach-waves kind of hair that suited her in the nicest way. Her face was diamond-shaped, decorated with poetically blue eyes in the middle. Somehow, she always managed to emphasized them in such delightful way, I wanted to put some make-up on myself as well, from time to time. But I never bothered with that. My job is where I come to work, not to impress people with my looks. I wanted to make them feel something towards me for my writing. For myself.

Sarah was such a remarkable person. She always found a way to make me laugh and forget about my problems in a matter of seconds. I still can't believe she is my friend after all we've dealt with. I never would have guessed that I would find such a wonderful co-worker here. Not in a million years.

"Oh, it's nothing. George gave me the promotion I told you about yesterday." I managed to pull off a tight smile and she sensed that something stinks.

"I know. I eavesdropped on your conversation. You should have known me well by know." She had a curious smile on her face and I knew she was up to no good.

"Please, Sarah, it's nothing!" I blurt out, almost screamed, as she took the file from my hands. To be precise, a special file with a special interview title.

I turned away as she was reading it and could only imagine what her face would look like after she's done. When I heard a smirk coming behind my back, I immediately turned around to see her expression, which fulfilled my expectations. She never let me down in these things. As my best friend, she possessed some sadistic traits herself and not a single bit of shame.

"Oh, you've got some juicy stuff here." She giggled and threw the map on the desk. "What are you going to do about it?"

She crossed her arms on her chest and waited for some kind of reaction on her reaction. We played this kind of game every time she wanted to prove a point. At that moment, I really didn't feel like losing.

"I'm going to do execute it like a professional journalist I am and prove I deserve this spot." I answered with my best serious tone I was capable in that moment. But after a few seconds of torture, I started laughing and so did Sarah.

"I don't see why would it be so funny at all." Sarah was now half out of my office when she turned back, with a kinky smirk on her face. "Good luck with the interrogation." She pointed out the last word and I gave her a please-behave look. She just smiled and disappeared.

Well, to be honest, I didn't know where to start with this new article. It was nothing at all like I expected it. I sure did say I was open for new challenges and experiences, but I never thought of doing something so inaccurate for our magazine as this. I mean, we were a travelling magazine, that was describing the wonders of this beautiful world, inspiring the people around us to appreciate it as well. That was my motto whenever I was writing a report from my exhibitions. What would it be now?

The phone on my desk rang and I jumped. I was starting to get lost in my mind so often now, I usually scared myself. It was my boss.

"Julia, just one more thing I'd like to add about the articles." His voice sounded full of excitement and enthusiasm that I simply could not found within me.

"I'm sure you've noticed one special title among them." Oh, thank you for pointing that out, George. "Well, I'd like you to work on that one first. You see, we need to spicy things up a little bit."

I was just about to protest against that idea, but I guess he could hear the anger in my breath so he roughly interrupted me for explanation. It better be a good one.

"I am fully aware of the fact that this kind of thing is not really your area. But I'd like to test you a bit." Was he really saying that? "Your writing, as I occasionally happened to mention before, is really astonishing. I'd like to see where this goes. I'm sure you'll do great. Now off you go!"

And he hang up. Was that it? Was this really all he could say in his defence for forcing me this article? First of, I was really not so much of a shallow kind to write this superficial crap. Second of, regarding to the first, literally _anyone else _who works here could do it. I'm sure Sarah would love to, if George would give her a chance. Although when I think about it, she rather does enjoy seeing me in pain. I mean, what about Janice who literally lived for publicity, commercial business and public figures? She'd do so much better than me in this one, I admit.

I seemed to have no choice left whatsoever, but to make a few calls. I opened a drawer in my desk and pulled out another big file, filled with important numbers. With numbers, most fan girls would kill for. Yep, the celebrity ones.

The map seemed to be very dusty, since I haven't opened it in about … Never? Now that I think about it, it makes it even weirder why he assigned me this particular article. This map usually meant an emergency exit in our language here. We almost never used it, unless we were in some really deep shi... Wait. Okay, hold on a second. This couldn't possibly be, right? The thing? _The _thing I was just thinking about? Like George said, we trusted each other and I don't see a reason why he wouldn't inform me about such important thing. Sure, I did belong in the background of the magazine, the hard-worker who rarely got any attention outside her beloved office where she made huge hits. George was usually the one getting all the credit for my "astonishing" pieces, but in private, behind the stage curtains, we all knew who was the main bitch.

My time-ticking wrath was just about to burst out, but somehow I found the hidden strength within me to keep calm. Sometimes I still managed to surprise myself how well-skilled I was in hiding my emotions. Any kind of emotions, in that matter. Was George lying straight in to my face earlier? Was he hiding something? I tried to push these suspicious thoughts away and focus on the number I was looking for, or was supposed to look for. But I just couldn't let it go by me. I was a big part of the magazine, no one could deny it. I was partly responsible for all the things currently happening, even if it wasn't even my fault; I just felt bound to do something about it. The things in my head, the words he said to me earlier just started to slowly blend in.

My hands started to shake as I was digging through tons of paper. Should I do what I'm supposed to do, just write the article and sit still about this whole 'secrecy' that's been going on right in front of my nose? How am I supposed to stay calm if I don't even know what's going on, if anything is going on? I'm sure I'd be more prepared and ready to write this appropriately if I had clear mind and soul to start this with. I needed to be certain, I needed to have a clean path to function optimally in general, not to mention to write a killer piece.

This was going nowhere. The thing I was supposed to look for already slipped my mind ten minutes ago and now I've only wasted more time, more precious, unavailable time. I gathered the mess on my desk and stuff it all in the map. I didn't really look out if any of the papers slipped through. All I could think of in that moment was what am I going to say to George. How could he think of him so highly and confidently to think he could fool me? The more I thought about what he could hide, the faster I walked towards his office.

I was only few meters away from his office's door, when I felt a hand grabbing my arm away from my destination. My eyes widened when I saw who was that person, dragging me across the hallway now.

"Janice?" I said unintentionally loud.

"Ssh! Somebody could hear us. Quick, come here," she said, still holding my arm with her forefinger pressed on her lips. She turned to the path leading to her office and then pushed me through the door. That was rather impolite and I was just about to reminder her of her rough actions, when she, as she was reading my mind, silently started to explain the interruption.

"I'm sorry for that, but trust me – the force included was more than necessary."

"Could you please explain why did you do it, then? And what am I doing here?"

She put her left palm on her hip, while she covered her chin with the right one, trying to pull off a deadly face. I knew this was a joke. She never, in my entire time spend here, even started a slight, humble conversation with me, let alone daring to do such thing. I guess some people hold more guts in them than we know. But still – the whole thing itself was pretty odd and I hoped for a thorough explanation.

"I really don't know where to start." The outer world, rather than dealing with this one here, seemed more interesting to her right now than anything else, while she was moving closer to her wide window, showing off a beautiful view on London.

"I kindly suggest you can start by telling me why did you drag me away from the boss' door." I was really starting to get pissed off. "Care to accept my advice?"

"Of course, of course," she said absently, but this time she dedicated her precious attention to me as she faced me. Her arms were now crossed on her chest, still thinking of the way of putting this. Why the hell does it take her so long to create a few short sentences?!

"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing here. All I know is that you're wasting my time, where I'm more of a use somewhere else. I'm sure this regards to you as well."

"We're doomed," she said quietly. She wasn't making any eye contact though, wise girl.

"Come again?" I knew exactly what she said. It's about the way she said it. I hoped this time I could get more out of her. I knew how to deal with people.

"I said we're doomed. Going nowhere but down. Lost, bankrupt, fucked up, you choose the word!" Now she was making eye contact indeed. A spark mixed with fury, disappointment and fear shuddered her hazel eyes. I never got to meet Janice properly, but boy, she had a bad temper. I don't blame her, though. I needed some time for myself as well to process her carefully chosen words. What did she mean by that? "Oh, don't be silly, you know _exactly _what she meant by that," the voice in my head said pathetically. Then another question popped, which was rather more difficult to solve that quickly: how did she get that information? And from whom? Was she capable of more than anyone else thought she was? Would she actually have _balls _to eavesdrop a highly confidential conversation between Mr Chappel accompanied with our lawyers and bunch of other stupid monkeys pretending to solve the situation, letting us know everything's going as planned? But what if this time they would finally reveal the real propaganda that we are going nowhere? That there's no hope whatsoever left for our little journal?

Just the thought of the end of our journey here, the break up with co-workers that took a special place in my heart, made my eyes burn. I couldn't let that happen. I don't care how Janice got the information. Even if it's all false; every lie holds a grain of truth. Either someone must want us harm or it's really going down. I'm just about to find that out.

I wasn't bothering that much with asking Janice where she got that information. I was more curious about why she held me back earlier. What did she know?

"So why did you bring me here? To tell me this soppy story that's probably not even true?" I intentionally pressed on the soft spot, forcing her to spit it out. I wanted this to end right here, right now.

"I was … I know what's going on, Julia. You see, I'm not as dumb and blind as everyone thinks I am. I see things, I notice things that no one else does. But just because I don't always say something, doesn't mean I ignore them." Her cheeks went red. I hit the spot. I let her continue.

"It was last week, the day I stayed a bit late. I was finishing the last article for the upcoming release. Everybody headed home or out and about at least three hours ago and I was still stuck with all this paperwork." She collapsed in her black fabric chair as she put her head in her palms. I could sense disgrace in her gesture when she finally gathered the courage to look me in the eyes.

"I suspected no one was still in the building and since I was all done, I decided to leave. Even though I should have stayed later," she reminded herself. "Anyway, I was just about to lock my office door, when I heard a whisper down the hall. Later on, when I hid behind a column, I realized it was a conversation between two people. It was Mr Chapple and Mrs Jennifer Coatsworth!"

For expressing her sudden disgust and amazement at the same time, she shot me a wide-eyed look. I heard lots of things about Janice, but it wasn't in my nature to trust people in any kind of information until I was sure for myself. But right now she proved me she was one little gossip girl. After all, she was celebrity-obsessed.

"As it went on, I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, so I stepped a bit closer to the office. I admit, I admit, I was being a bad girl. But what other choice did I have? I work her as well, and I don't like to do my job while there's some scheme going on." Her hands started to fly around in the air, adding much more sense to what she was saying. She was obviously implying that she was not fond of nasty little business going on behind her back. I started to realize that she was one brave girl, knowing what she deserves and what she's willing to do to get there. Nobody saw that quality in her, which was most appreciated in journalism.

"They went quiet for a moment after I moved only few centimetres away from the door. For a second my heart stopped, thinking they just might step out of that door and find me here, all curled up like a hamster," she sighed with evident relief as she continued.

"But the conversation went on when Mrs Coatsworth half whispered half yelled at Mr Chapple, saying there's no other way to do … Something. Couldn't quite decipher that one." She wrinkled her forehead, still trying to remember the words she heard. But then she just shook her head, inhaled disgusting office air to proceed.

"She sounded really pissed off, though. I never met her in person, but I could sense George was pretty frightened of that woman due to his absent inputs to the conversation. Which is very atypical of him, as you may know yourself." I learned that much about Mr Chapple that when he went totally silent, he was usually scared to death. And a thread from that Jennifer woman's mouth was enough to scare him to the bone. What would happen to our magazine if it were all real? Was it?

"That was pretty much all I could hear, since from then on she had a phone call she needed to answer urgently." She paused before continuing carefully. "I have a bad feeling about this, Julia. And I'm rarely a pessimist. This whole thing seems really strange and too suspicious to just cut it off, go on with our life, pretending nothing has happened. We both know we wouldn't be able to do that."

I agreed with her on this one. It frightened me how awfully correct she was. We needed to get to the bottom of this, even if it means George revealing us his deepest secrets he's been hiding from us for several days, if not weeks. There were lines of privacy between the boss and the employees, but we were all aware that our future was hanging by a thread, living in constant fear of not knowing when the day will come. We had to be honest with ourselves as to each other and not living blindfolded any longer.

"Does anyone else know about your little exploit?" I asked with a glimpse of humour, but knowing this was no time for jokes.

"No. Only you. Do you think we should tell others, too?"

I instantly thought of Sarah and how her brain was rather magnificent in planning on some evil attempts. Maybe she could help us out here. She always seemed to know the right thing to do when all of us just happened to freeze. She was the brain and support of our little group.

"I think it's a good idea if we tell Sarah. She's always been good with coming up with some brilliant tricks of getting what she wanted," I said with a bit of pride rising within me. I was happy that we worked in the same group so I was able to enjoy her pleasant company, especially when the day just didn't seem to end.

Janice stood up quite unexpectedly and intertwined her skinny fingers. She was about same height as me, although we were both wearing heels today. Everybody knew of her for her impeccable sense for fashion and newest fashion-trends stalking. Her curious eyes were now wide open, ready for incoming action we're about to cause.

"I'm going straight to George and you tell Sarah everything you told me. No need to spread it across the office, just Sarah will do. Deal?" I said with determined voice of a leader.

Janice obediently nodded. We were now both headed to our directions and I could only imagine the look on Sarah's face. I was fully aware of the complete idiots we would make of ourselves if that whole 'bankrupting' thing were not true. But my plan wasn't at all that aggressive and carelessly, sloppily hatched up. Like I said, I needed to get to the bottom of this matter, whether is it embarrassing myself or saving the magazine. Let's hope it will be the first one, because regardless of what reputation I would gain after my paranoid action, it's still better than the whole thing going down.

I was speeding up my walking pace as I was headed directly towards Mr Chapple's office. I really didn't have the time nor the patience to wait for him to finish the meeting we were told he has, even though he said it's super important. The last thing I cared about right now was how he has some stupid meeting, while the situation is getting alarmingly out of hand. And if he isn't going to do anything about it, who will? I counted myself as the only one willing to do something that would actually make some difference or have some kind of effect on the position we were stuck in, and of course, I couldn't forget about Janice. She surprised me with her invigorating encouragement which filled her, and was also spreading around the office, affecting me as well. I was happy to see some dedicated co-workers still fighting for what we all deserve. It filled me with strange hope that some day, maybe in distant future, we'll make a change.

Some guy from my group shot me a surprised look while I was getting nearer and nearer to the office. At some point he finally got the point of my extraordinary fast walking speed and he jumped in front of me. I kind of expected that to happen even earlier as I was passing small groups working on their projects, but none of them really had the guts to stop me. I'd like to believe they were afraid of me.

"Julia, Mr Chapple's having a very important meeting in there," the guy named Michael said gently,

I looked at him as if he was really that naïve. In response he just shrugged his shoulders and moved aside. Wise decision, if I may add.

Even though I was playing a tough badass here, something inside me was stopping me, holding me back. The urge to immediately stop what I was doing, because I'd soon regret it. A gut feeling. I chose to ignore it, although I almost always listen to it. But I was determined I'm not going to just stand there and watch it all fall apart, as they all did. I couldn't let myself down that much, including my ball less co-workers. They were, however cowards, and I had to do something about it.

I was getting dangerously close now, my heart beating like crazy for no particular reason. The urge was still fighting me back, my legs did not want to obey me as I was starting to open the door. It was like my each move was pictured in slow motion, watching myself like in some comedy show as the main character interrupts something awfully significant in that moment. And only when I opened the door with shameful courage in my veins, mixed with adrenaline, I realized I was completely right.

My eyes captured a very strange, unreal situation for which I thought I won't get to see in this lifetime. There he was, standing tall and proud, professionally shaking hands with my boss with that kinky smirk on his face. They both looked pleasantly surprised as they saw my reaction. I was not at all ready for this, as my face probably let it out for me, although they looked strangely amused at the sight of me. I gulped when I saw a dead serious face on my boss seconds later, slowly choking me with his eyes. Yet the guy's reaction next to him, stayed the same. He even gave me a head-to-toe kind of look, which really pissed me off, but I was determined to look and stay calm.

"Well, well, Julia. Wasn't I clear in the morning about my meeting today?" George was now playing the role of the most hilarious character in the show which had all the public stick with him and me coming out as a complete clown that was the main laughing stock.

"Um … I … I'm really sorry, Mr Chapple," I started a bit more cowardly as I dared to suspect. "I didn't realize it's _that _important. I'll … I'll stop by later. If you excuse me now."

Never in my entire life was I so humiliated and disgraced as in this very moment. Just as I was about to disappear and planning on killing myself to escape this misery, a soft voice behind me stopped me. A familiar voice which I was so afraid of right now.

"Oh, it's no big deal. We were just finished anyway, weren't we, old chap?" he said, tapped George on the shoulder twice, then squeezed it softly. He gave me a wide grin when I finally gathered the courage to face him. It was a sight I'll remember for the rest of my life.

He was now slowly approaching me, sticking out his large palm to shake mine. I awkwardly stepped closer, shaking when meeting his gaze.

"My name's Tim Huttington. I caught a bit of yours, but I'd like to hear the whole version." Another charming smirk flashed before my eyes and I literally froze. Or at least my insides did.

"My … name is Julia Grady. I'm so sorry again, for the rude interruption." Somehow I managed to create and utter these simple words which apparently gave such satisfaction to the actor in front of me that he devoted me another one of his famous smiles.

"Wait a second," he stared at me with his eyes narrowed for a few seconds. I feared the worst. "Haven't I met you somewhere before?"

Well that was awkward.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My heart was beating like crazy by now and my hands were getting slightly sweaty, so I cut off the handshake as soon as I could. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by his charming gesture. Meanwhile, George was giving me a killer look, which made me shiver. What else was I supposed to do? It's completely normal for a girl to start trembling at the sight of such mighty human. It wouldn't be normal if I wouldn't.

While I was trying to settle down and cease my heartbeat, Tim was staring at me, in wait for an answer. I came up with nothing good as an excuse for pretending I know not of what he's speaking about. Somehow, when he was standing right here in front of me, lying to impress somebody didn't mean such importance as it would in 'normal' circumstances.

"Well, I did in fact bump into you this morning," I answered insecurely. "But I never would've figured you'd remember me."

"I try to remember each lovely face I meet." His mouth once again elongated into a flirty smirk. Was he doing this to every woman he met or did he actually fancy me? That was the biggest mystery to me in that moment.

I chuckled to come off relaxed and adorable as I wanted to, but my nervousness once more destroyed the magical moment. To cover my instant redness that overcame my cheeks, I shyly looked away, but could still feel his heavenly blue eyes locked on my face. Something was going on, and it made me confused to not know what that thing was. Something was definitely in the air that day, or maybe it was just the tension that cooled down from when I rushed to the office.

Then it hit me – why did I actually come here for? I hated when something or someone could enchant me into some foolish creature not knowing its whereabouts in a split of a second just by looking at me.

I straightened my posture, put on a fearless expression, not giving out a single thought that crept through my mind.

"You said you were finished with your meeting, is that right?" My voice turned out to be slightly a bit more bossy than I've planned, but it worked, because Tim simply nodded and remained silent. Even his lips were still for a change.

"Well then, if you have nothing of big significance left to discuss about, I'd like to steal George from you for a few moments."

My arm slightly brushed Tim's as I was passing by him, to get near my boss. When I came to face him, my lips formed a forced smile, as I glanced to Tim for the last time. What they just agreed on or simply the nature of their meeting was still a mystery for me, but now I knew I had to focus on myself for just a bit. This was my chance of letting George know, that by putting my onto higher position, it also meant that he will not be able to play with me any more as he did so far. I suddenly realized once again the importance of my rush to get George to speak with me. It filled me with instant shame and disgrace to also acknowledge how little it takes to get me distracted. Carried away just with one look.

Tim was now closing the door, and suddenly I felt easier to breathe. My lungs captured the full air once again, and I was ready for a battle.

"I suggest we sit down. This might be a bit of a shock for you," I started simply and formally. Not usually my style of speaking when with George, but this was much more important than all the topics we've ever discussed before. "Although I was, however, standing up when hearing the news…"

I couldn't help myself but to add a bit of sarcasm to my incoming verbal attack. I knew it would hit George to let him know I am aware of his dirty little secrets as well as it did me. But I wasn't holding back the anger bursting within me.

"When were you planning on telling me this?" My voice was shaking, full of insecurity and indecisiveness, yet fearless and ruthless.

He was giving me a surprised look, oddly filled with sincere confusion. "I truly don't know what you're talking about. Do you mean Tim?" He threw his right thumb behind him to point on the guest, which was already gone.

I tried to ignore the signs of him actually not knowing what I was talking about, but the voice in the back of my mind was telling me he's just making a fool out of me. Like all those times before. I should have gotten used to it by now.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, George." It was in my intentions to lead on this conversation this time and not letting him slip like each time the situation was getting out of hand. He sure is known for his great mind and creativity, but like every human being he also possessed a flaw. It was when things were getting difficult, when you have to work a bit harder, he would give up and let others do it instead. Even if that meant me, from time to time, but he tried his best to avoid that and save me for the writing part.

Sometimes I let him control me. Maybe too many times, I was aware of that. But how far was he prepared to go until I'd eventually give up? Was that his intention? I surely believed (or even hoped) that was not true. Because even though he had occasional trust issues, he often trusted me his top secret and greatest projects. When I first applied to this job I knew I'd to anything to keep it. It was my lifetime chance when I got accepted, when they said they loved my CV and how I manage to put together the most interesting words into beautiful sentences. I felt it in my bones I have to cling onto this opportunity no matter what. No matter what others might say, it was my break-through. I was lucky enough to come across it so early, let alone let it pass me by.

George eventually put his brown reading glasses in his palm and rubbed the corners of his eyes with the fingers of another. I had a gut feeling he's getting pretty irritated and annoyed and the last thing I needed was his moodiness ruin the rest of my day.

When he was starting to give no sign whatsoever of wanting to continue this conversation, I took a breath to convince him again, but he shut me up by putting his palm with glasses in front of my face. Somehow I was left speechless, still knowing deep inside me where the boundaries are.

"Julia..." he said tiredly. My heart was aching. "I knew you would sooner or later come to this point where you'd find out. But first of, before you get so obnoxiously proud of being right and having your suspicions, sadly, confirmed, I'd like to share my side of this story."

My mouth went dry like somebody would drain it in a matter of milliseconds. His words hurt me way more than I planned. I was trained so well by now, that I always somehow expected the bad news first and got pleasantly surprised if I was proved otherwise. But this time all my skills of being cold-blooded and ruthless, simply faded away. All my courage suddenly washed away. The words left unspoken hanged deadly in my mouth, leaving me unable to utter them. I couldn't comprehend those feelings bottled inside me; was I feeling guilty of pressing on him that hard, was I sad and hurt that it was actually all true or …. or did I actually feel sorry for him? Because after all: he is the main editor and he is the one taking whole responsibility for this business going down. Nobody can or will take his place this time, insuring him they will take care of the matter he was trying to avoid. Maybe that was his punishment, his penance for ignoring the important things in his life for too long.

I just stood there, all weak and bleak. Suddenly I felt an urgent need to hug him, but I successfully managed to shove that stupid idea back where it came from. A part of me was feeling sorry for him, prepared to do anything for him what he'd ask of me, but the other one, and probably the one I should obey in this moment, was telling me it was all his fault, he screwed up and that there's no way out of here unless he clears this mess up himself. After a few tough moments of observing the floor beneath him, he looked me straight in the eye. I wasn't quite sure, but did I saw a tear reflecting in his eye?

"I had a great deal. An awesome deal. A deal I've never had the guts before to carry out." I sensed obviously still present pride in his voice, and maybe after I'd hear his story, I wouldn't blame him. His eyes were sparkling like never before, until they sadly dropped and the sparkle died once he continued. "But the main representative of our biggest sponsor chose the other company over us and then I realized how foolish I'd been. How blind to let it all happen right in front of my nose."

He hung his head slowly and made a small pause before proceeding. "Maybe that was the problem. It was all too good to be true. I felt something like that would happen, but I chose to ignore it, because the feeling of triumph felt too well to just let it pass."

Again he put his brave expression on his face, an expression I haven't seen in a long time, if ever, now that I think about it. I was still awfully torn apart between the things I should do right now, the things that seemed most appropriate. But the best thing I could think of at that moment was to remain silent, not judge him and just listen to his story. If the George I knew was now about to speak, I was positive he would come up with a good plan for me as for the whole company. He invested too much in it to lose it now. He even put his family at stake to make it work.

"That's why I was hoping you'd come to yell at me for what I've done, not some other employee. I wanted to solve this matter with only you and you alone, because I was most ashamed to come to you myself." The obvious despair mixed with fear flashed through his eyes, and now I was certain what I am to do. Be there for him. But to be honest, my mind was currently not in the best form for creating life-saving agendas that would bring this company back to life. Or maybe he has prepared something for me already?

"I... I'm speechless, George." I wasn't feeling like keeping it all inside me now that he came out in front of me, so I let it out. All of it. "I'm not sure what to do. I'm not even sure of my place here any more. All the time I felt like we trusted each other, like you said yourself. It has never even crossed my mind that you'd betray me."

Maybe I was too tough in the choice of words I spoke, but like I said – I wasn't in the mood of keeping _my _secrets from him, _my _feelings and how _I _felt about this. Because even though he said it had ruined his life, it would also make a huge effect on the rest of the crew. He couldn't get away without bearing a bit of responsibility and consequences for his actions.

He was just about to say a comeback to me, but I cut him off. "I won't leave you now, I give you my word. But you have to tell me one more thing." I was being dead serious by now. "Do you have any kind of plan whatsoever about solving this? Or at least some dignity left to tell everything you told me to our co-workers? They deserve to know, you know."

We both knew what followed. He had no choice, but to ask me to escort him to the staff room, where the crew was having a break right now. He did what I suspected and we were only a few meters away from the glass sliding door, parting us from the curious and anxious journalists, when he stopped out of nowhere. He had to lean his had back a bit to actually be able to look me in the eyes. When he did, I could notice overcoming fear in his eyes, which was not the right way to start this. He needed to be confident about this, ready for the rude comments and remarks from his inferiors which are not how I reacted. Maybe this was the time when they'd all stand up against him and finally let out what they've been holding inside for so long. Maybe they were sensing this and preparing for some sort of revolt, but I seriously doubt that.

Though it was a totally acceptable option in George's eyes that were begging me for mercy right now. "Everything's going to be all right, George. Chin up, smile on and tell them the news with professional attitude that you own. Show them you're the right boss for them and they wouldn't want anyone else beside them but you in this kind of situation." I tried my best to instil courage into him, but his eyes were still reflecting insecurity. "I'll be next to you the whole time. I'll be there for you, but you have to do this on your own. You can do this, George," I said almost whispering.

I have never in my entire life spent here though I'd be in this kind of position with my boss. Having to tell _him _the inspiring and brave words to encourage him instead of him being in my place. It was slightly awkward and unexpected, but it was in my nature to help a person in anguish. That was just me. Regardless of the other person's position or rank, I'd help them out like I'd want them to do the same for me. Even if that wasn't always the case.

George was now instantly filled with enough courage to give him the strength of opening the glass door with such pomposity it made me think he might be bipolar. Just a few seconds ago he was asking me to do this instead of him, but now he gave off such glow and confidence I haven't seen in a while, since all I noticed lately were his concerned and sad eyes. I was, however, happy for him, but something wasn't right. Something inside me was telling me he _does _have a hell of a plan which, of course, he hadn't told me about in full. Something made him feel suddenly so positive about the world around him, and I knew it was something he was much eager and excited to share with the rest of us.

The co-workers were utterly surprised when George entered the room with his usual straightened posture and unreadable expression. His eyes flew around the room, checking each and every single one around him. When he finished his observation job, he sighed loudly, his eyes still filled with ill excitement which left the employees bewildered. I was also still in shock of the past few events that all happened in such narrow timing. They left me confused and wondering what the future will bring. But I knew I had to let those words be spoken by our boss, not some annoyingly appreciated ass-kissing toad that always did everything instead of him. Even I was getting on my nerves by now.

"Sorry to interrupt you during your delicious lunch break," he said cheerfully, ending the sentence with a smile exposing almost each tooth he possessed. "But I'm afraid I have even more delicious news for you instead!"

He let out a brief chuckle while observing his employees still in the middle of the bite of their lunch while having their eyes stuck on the small, preposterous person in front of them who was spoiling their precious free time. I'd be mad as well, if I were so rudely interrupted in the middle of a meal (which was very good today, by the way). The people who were holding the sandwich in their hands now stopped eating and waited for the news their boss promised to tell. It was quite a funny scene, if you were some random guy observing the situation; George was standing right in front of the entrance into the room (possibly to quickly dash when he'd reveal the bad news before the employees would get a chance to tear him to pieces) with his evil smile on his mouth. I was right beside him, like I've promised, just going along with his tactic by nodding at each word he said and tried to ignore the countless times I've caught someone staring at me with despise in their eyes. Others would either stand, leaning on the cupboard and holding a cup of morning coffee in their hand, or eating their lunch. To pass the time while this awkward moment of silence was filling the atmosphere, I tried to imagine which employee would attack (verbally or physically) George first. It was a fun game until I realized I'd probably be involved as well.

Then George realized it was time. I turned to him as he gulped, but still managed to maintain the timeless pride in his eyes and body language. "My dear, dear friends..." By saying that we both realized it was wrong the moment he uttered it. "There are times in the world of successful companies, whether in business, media or travelling, when it gets tough. We've all experienced such bitter era from our previous occupations since this isn't our first job, except this young lady next to me." His body turned around with his right arm coming towards me, and I caught myself blushing. It was true, no matter how high my position here was. I was the 'novice', even though I got familiar with writing at an early age. They all shot me an envious look and George probably sensed that since he continued with his sentence and all eyes were on him once again. I sighed with relief as I also turned my eyes on him, closely following with what he was saying. "But I would like to emphasize that in a positive way. Since she will be playing a rather huge role in what I'm about to say."

My heart went crazy. My neck vain was jumping out of the skin so evidently I had to cover it with my hand. I had no clue at all what he was about to say. Although I still held a tiny bit of hope left he'd reveal what he said to me earlier. I hoped he was that smart enough to obey me on this one.

He started off executing his purpose of being here by telling the truth, thankfully, like I've suspected. My heartbeat went normal again for those short moments where he was merely saying how sorry he was, rather than exposing the true matter. I guess his shyness overcame him. Although worries have never truly left my mind. I was concerned from the start about how he would carry out the whole thing, despite the fact that I trusted him. He still was from time to time unpredictable, defending his glorious reputation of being unbeatable. Until this day.

"I admit," he said after a short pause to let people sink in what he's just said. "I was a foolish man. I believed in my abilities, my ambitions and the invincibility of our company. I was more than just wrong – I let it go that far to risk losing it all. Put you all at stake."

I cannot deny the fact it was a moving speech. After all we've been through for a past few months, sentimentality was the last thing a person would expect from this man. Like me (plus probably the whole crew), he tried to withdraw from the feelings that might get in the way. Sadly, that was often the case. Not just with him, but with many of us. We just couldn't let it happen that our opponents, our rivals would sense a slight sign of weakness in our actions. For that would trigger them to take advantage of it. We were all too aware of that.

"So that is why, after a short period of time I had at disposal, I came up with a plan." Whole room stopped breathing. I had a feeling about this I couldn't not yet categorize whether was it a bad or a good one. I guess I could say I just went with the flow of the events. "Before you start burdening yourself with unnecessary doubt and fear, let me assure you it has more caution and approval put in it this time." Once again, he flashed his perfectly straight teeth which were the aftermath of wearing braces his whole puberty. Quite painful. I wasn't really sure how I was supposed to feel about the approval part since nobody quite knew anything about his plan yet, though I dared to think I knew what he was about to say.

"As some of you might noticed," he devoted me a mocking look which I tried to ignore. "We had a special guest today."

Suddenly it all made sense. It was all so clear to me now I mentally slapped myself in the face for being so blind before. It was all in his head a long time ago, the whole celebrity thing. I guess I could say he started taking care of the crumbling business quite early after his little incident. But I did not yet know what _exactly _did he have in mind when he brought him to our office. Something was definitely up and I hated it when I was stuck in a situation like this.

George's eyes were now glowing with ultimate shine that have always identified him. I could still sense him trembling a bit from being under a huge tension right now. However he did not show any sign of indulgence or surrender. He kept on going around the room with his skilled glance, making sure everyone was comfortably seated and prepared for what he had in store for them. For I had a feeling it will shock them more than the news of being at the edge of bankruptcy.

"A very special guest, if I may add. For those who are not informed about my little meeting today – it was that famous film star, Tim Huttington. Some haven't met him, yet some have been more acquainted with the fellow, am I right, Julia?" I swear he was doing this on purpose. Was it not humiliating enough that I made a complete idiot out of myself just in front of him, let alone in front of the actor? He _had to _make me feel embarrassed in front of those morons as well. I ought to have expected that.

"Well it was a bit unusual, yes," I replied straightforwardly. My cheeks went red as I felt each pair of eyes in this room on me. All I needed right now was another idiotic event that would convince my sometimes parochial co-workers that I possessed yet another privilege they will never have the chance to even think about owning. Sometimes I wished I could just slap him in that sadistic face of his.

"Oh Julia, don't be shy now!" He let out a loud chuckle which was really annoying. "No need to be humble now. You said yourself you had quite a face-to-face one this morning."

I could hear the loud and angry breaths my female co-workers took in from across the room. And it was not flattering at all, if that was George's intention.

"It was very awkward and brief. He hardly remembered me." The moment I said it I knew it was totally incorrect. He let it go that far I even started lying to myself.

Before he could happily announce my poor lying skills, I cut him off with a surprisingly creative comeback. "But yeah, you could say it was quite a refreshing thing to have happened to you as the first thing on Monday morning." With that answer, or rather a statement, I shut him up instantly which caused a rather big increment to my ego.

It was commonly known that defeat was not in George's nature. That's why he calmly continued with our indirect conversation. "That might actually be a use for you since you'll be spending an awful lot of time with him in the near future."

There are moments in life that really do take you by surprise. And by surprise I mean you often feel like you've just found out something so unexpected you almost shit your pants. That would be the least to describe what I was feeling right in that moment. First my eyes spread wide open like I was trying to suffocate someone with my eyes. In a way I guess it worked since one of my co-workers seemed to be really freaked out by my murderous glance. Then, after a solid five seconds of complete silence, I realized I was holding my breath the entire time. I literally lost the track of time. Then my sudden shock turned into boiling rage. He did, however, very explicitly showed he was highly enjoying this.

"What... What exactly do you mean by that, George?" I let out a ridiculous chuckle I regretted the very second I uttered it. In response, George giggled quite rudely. What was up with him lately?

"My dear Julia, I mean that you'll be making an interview with the guy." I already knew that when I searched through my titles for the future issues. But how was that relevant? Or rather, what good will it do us except to maybe increase the sale a little bit which will be merely caused by teenage fan girls and his publicist? Again, I had a mess in my head.

"But if it's a regular interview it would only take me one meeting to-"

"Na-a. _That _is why you won't me making _just _an interview. Or at least not an ordinary one. I mean, hello – it's Tim freaking Huttington, the Avenger's star!"

This was getting more and more bizarre. Not only was he hiding the company's problems from me, he was as well hiding an actual purpose to my most recent article. What the hell was he thinking?

"I really don't know what your point is here," I said rather bored. I had enough of his little games and sarcastic answers that only made me more confused and distracted. Maybe he enjoyed seeing me like this, but if that was the case I'll make sure he was _never _going to see me again.

"You'll be going on a little trip with him, love!" He looked at me as if I was playing dumb. Or was on purpose postponing the whole thing. But let me assure you one thing – I was definitely not being the centre of attention on purpose here.

"A trip?"

"Well not an actual one, of course! You'll be spending some time with him on the set of his new film coming up. We'll make sure you won't be in the way while he'll be doing his job." I was now certain I'll never speak to him again.

"Sorry if I missed – but what again will be _my _job?" I asked with insecurity in my voice.

If that was his grand rescuing plan, I must confess I was not deeply impressed. Or at all impressed, really. I shouldn't be so surprised, though, seeing him passing on his own burden on someone else's shoulders. And this time this 'someone else' was me.

I didn't mind him collaborating with me on certain things when I agreed on it. But this... This was way too much. Something I actually thought, for the first time in my life, that I won't be capable of doing. To be precise; I'd be capable of doing it. But I just didn't see the point in all this, therefore will not be able to do it perfectly like it was common in my work ethic. Yes, Mr Huttington did agreed on it. But will it be enough? Just some boring story about an actor who already has so many other things on his mind? And I suspected George knew damn well how 'in the way' I'll be on the set of that stupid movie. I admit, I did found the guy rather adorable and humorous. But other than that, I could not stand celebrities and the whole fame thing. It just wasn't my area. That's why I think any other person in this room would be more qualified for this kind of thing.

"I think we need to talk George."

"Oh Julia, don't be so dramatic. May I just please say-"

"Not this time, George," I cut him off this time. "I need to have a word with you. Now."

I could feel all eyes on the pair of us once again, but then I decided I had enough of those judgemental quims. I rushed out of the office and made sure I slammed those glass doors pretty damn hard as I left. It was in my intentions to let them know how pissed off I was right then.

My feet made their own way down the hall, as far away from that office as possible. After few seconds of walking really loud and incredibly fast, I heard another footsteps behind me. I could only guess whom they belonged to.

"Julia, I'm really sorry, I didn't know-"

"Could you please stop speaking now? If I remember correctly it was me who had something to say. Or at least I hope I still own that right of choices I make."

George's eyes flew away from mine and focused on a grey wall behind me. His posture was not as straight any more, and his shoulders tiredly and sadly dropped.

"First, I think you owe me an explanation why did you let me handle this article in the first place? I'm aware of what we agreed on the meeting this morning, but you know a thing like that... might not be what you're expecting. I'm all for the challenge, but we both know this is not what I'm here for. Not what are magazine is about either."

George's eyes revealed an emotion I've never seen in them before. It was a bold thing to do – yet I was sure what I saw was pure defeat. I've come to the point of no return. He didn't see any sense at all to keep lying to me so he went for it.

"It was not in my intentions to make you feel deprived or insecure about your abilities. If that's what I've caused, please forgive me," George said softly.

"You could've at least told me about this in private. What held you back this morning?"

"I... I felt ashamed. I could only imagine the expression on your face once you've seen the title. My actions were purely selfish and arrogant."

I've never seen George so vulnerable and weak right in front of me like this before. He never opened up to anyone about his feelings or his perception of things, if it was not about work. Somehow I let myself accept his apology, simply because I've had enough of our stupid, pathetic and completely irrational quarrel. However we did fight about important things, such as him tainting our mutual trust, but I guess sometimes you forgive people because you still want them in your life. And for all I knew, I needed this in my life. We've grown quite close during my time here. Who else would have my back other than George?

"I understand. It's a difficult time for all of us, and sometimes it slips my mind that you alone hold the whole responsibility and that you too sometimes feel like you lack of friends you can trust. I totally get that. And I'm here to make sure you won't feel that way again." He took my hand in his and squeezed it. It was a sign of reunited trust and friendship.

"Now, you have to tell me what that whole celebrity fuss is about," I said gently with a bit of humour as I withdrew from his touch. Still I had a perfectly straight goal for today – to clear up this matter with George. I have to admit; it did bug me the whole time.

"Let me escort you to my office where we'll clarify all the things that worry you." George kindly encouraged me to start walking towards our destination by clutching my left shoulder blade.

After a long period of time filled with worries and anxiety, I finally managed to feel calm once again. I should have felt more cramped or stressed about the fact that this company's future depends on me and how I'll do with the article. But to be honest, it mattered more to me that I have George back on my side again. Him coming back to reality and facing things as they were, was his biggest achievement so far. We all get carried away from time to time, feel invincible and like nothing can stop us. But if we don't put enough hard work and thought in it, it might actually fail. When all we meant was good – not only for ourselves, but the people around us as well. And I knew that from beginning, that George only meant it this to work.

Now that we were back on the same track, we could start working as professional partners as well. We were both excited for the things yet to come, although now that I've put this emotional break-down behind me, I was scared as hell as well. Nothing was certain and confirmed. The only approval I have is Mr Huttington's, and I don't even know if he's truly in this thing with his heart. Because after all, he didn't have to. He already has so many other appointments and press conferences that the last thing he needed was some nerve-racking journalist, eager to get a lifetime story out of him that would make her career bloom.

To be honest, I was afraid of even having a word with that guy. I was in awe of him, like each person would be. Though I thought he was intelligent and bright, I did not know what to expect. Even being close to that man made you go bananas. I mean, he's so freaking tall. I never would have expected to be actually in contact with a famous person. If someone told me that a few years ago I'd laugh at him and think that someone is being sarcastic and rather rude. That is how low my self-esteem was. Nothing really changed, though, I just found the way to ignore that.

That's why I was so nervous about this thing. We were now slowly walking to George's office, and I could feel my hands getting really sweaty. I was afraid I was going to fail him for the first time. Sure, I've been through a lot and a lot has happened to me, still was. But this was different. Going on an actual field trip with a guy with such high level of recognition among people was beyond describable. And I wasn't even sure if I meant that in a good or a bad way. I was just hoping George would give me further instructions of how to actually carry out this thing, because I hadn't got the slightest idea where to even start.

* * *

**I know it's been a long time, but I'm not sure I will be able to post exactly on seven-days-time. I'm knee-deep in school work and I'm already really behind, so it's kinda hard doing it all at the same time. But enough whining! I am doing this with pleasure (guaranteed with more pleasure and joy than school work, although sometimes I wish it was the other way around, at least for the time being) and keep up (well, I'll try) with posting chapters within ten days.**

**I hope you guys like the story so far, although I know it gets pretty boring at the end, but I tried keeping it interesting and adventurous. I give you my word - the promising parts of the story are yet to come, don't give up just yet! But I have a thing of making long-ass introductions into the stories and describing things.**

**Anyway, I'll be maybe updating the chapters a bit when I get the chance, but so far I hope you're satisfied - otherwise _please _give me some advice, comment, anything at all to make this better! :)**

**Till the next time...**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Almost a week has passed since the news has flooded the company and I haven't received a single note from my boss that would give me any kind of sign at all that this whole celebrity thing was for real. I should have foreseen this. Maybe it was time I'd finally learn there's no trusting anyone. The only person you can rely on is yourself. I tried to get away from the bitterness that would ruin my day by doing some extra work. I was killing the time I knew I could spend a bit more useful. But if George didn't give me the green light, all I could do was to wait. For it was him who has to approve the whole thing, then I'll later struggle to actually get anything out of that actor. Things seemed to be moving so slow like never before. I wasn't used to that pace.

George always liked to remind me that fast writing and giving the piece in before the due is the right way to success, for you'll never know what can come between that would hinder your work. To be honest, I wanted to get it over with as soon as I can, because I couldn't not watch the company slowly sink any more, nor my co-workers' sad faces. It hurt me, not only because they were my friends, but also because their future depended on me. George was sometimes acting utterly weird. I could simply say I wouldn't do the job because it's not my responsibility to save the company but George's. And I wonder, I really do, what would he do in such situation? Among the emergency options there was handling the article to someone else. But it bugged me, probably George as well, that none would do it the same as me. Not saying as good as me, but just not in my style of writing that attracted our loyal buyers so much. It wasn't fair either, maybe some even wanted to do this piece and George hasn't even given them the chance to prove themselves they can be just as good as me. Knowing that someone might want this more than me, doing this with more enthusiasm really pissed me off. It made it that much less honest.

The clock above my head showed it's time for lunch. Normally I wouldn't especially wait for this time of the day, for mostly I was busy losing myself in writing to let myself have a break. Never it had occurred me I would miss my work that much. Although it wasn't entirely gone – I was still onto some other articles, the ones George has prepared me to do. But they weren't anything special, at least has no equal to the current one.

I stood up from my black chair and headed to Sarah's office to offer her a lunch out of the office today. It sucked being in the same room as my co-workers. Not that I thought of myself anything higher than that, it's just I could almost hear what they were thinking if we were in the same room. It was either mixed with jealousy and anger or despise and disgust. I was hundred percent sure none of their thoughts possessed a trace of kindness. Though I wasn't even expecting that. I skilled myself rather well in pushing other people's opinions in the trash bin and let them be there, not even caring to give them a read before justifying my actions. Was there anything left to do other than slide myself away from people and their negativity? Like that was really something we all needed in this particular time.

As I was walking towards Sarah's working place, I was passing by lots of people, giving me the looks. When I'd passed them, I'd put on the cold-blooded expression on my face as it was in my nature, not having a slightest care about what they were thinking of. Since that crucial day on, I haven't been wearing anything classy or sophisticated in the least. Usually it were just some trendy skinny jeans combined with a comfy sweater that gave me most pleasure writing in than any other piece of clothing could have. To be honest, it was on the end of my to-do list to care what I put on these days. I had other things on my mind. Like saving this company by annoying an at-the-time most famous actor in the planet. No big deal at all.

All of a sudden, Sarah appeared behind the corner, devoting me a light smile when she met my gaze. "Hi!" I said faked cheerfully. Things have been a bit awkward between us since the disclosure part. "Are you finished for lunch or do you still have something left to do?"

"Oh no, not at all, I'm all done, thank god," she replied, smile still on her face.

"Would you mind eating outside today? I feel kinda trapped inside here. All the memories, if you know what I mean," I chuckled and waited anxiously for her response. She sensed it was more a request than an offer and quickly nodded as I left out a sigh with relief. She knew me all too well. In this time of personal crisis I needed someone to not give me a shitty advice or say to just go with it, but someone who understood me by not even saying a word. Someone who understood the desperate look in my eyes that craved for something more than just few words of seeming encouragement.

She dropped the huge pile of paperwork on her desk, grabbed her black coat and headed outside next to me. The silence between us seemed comfortable and too vulnerable to break, that's why we kept it this way. The sky outside was painfully grey, kind of representing my current mood. I didn't feel like talking, yet wanting to let everything out to Sarah. I didn't normally feel the need to justify my emotions to someone, simply because I hid them perfectly well enough to even notice I have them. I only let myself pour out the deepest oceans of passion when I was writing. Other than that, I knew it would ruin me. It's the unspoken truth of humanity.

We were walking down the busy streets of central London, looking left and right if anything exciting was worth our attention. However, we both spot several handsome men, to which we dedicated a delightful, slightly flirty look to each other. I needed this sort of thing from time to time. This sort of relaxation. It kept me going and preparing for many other things, still awaiting in the future. To be honest, I was always afraid of future. Or rather what would it bring, what consequences would I have to suffer if something didn't go as planned. I could say I was sort of addicted to planning things and overthinking. Analysing each and every word. It would get very exhausting by the end of the day, but I'd be lost without it.

Sarah knew all this stuff that crept through my mind. It was like she was reading my mind or my body language. I simply could not lie in front of her, neither to anyone else if she'd be standing next to me. She had that thing in her that made you honest about yourself and your feelings to another person. It was a lifestyle she was proud to defence as for herself as for the rest of the world. I think if she'd set her mind on changing the world, she'd actually do it.

We paid for some cheese sticks we ate along our way to the Russell Square Gardens. The weather didn't seem to change, yet the forecast said it wasn't going to rain, so that was good news. We threw ourselves tiredly on the wide bench right in the heart of the park. Even though it was almost noon, it was filled with people and little kids playing in the playground. It was a nice sight to see, a bit of refreshment after such dull morning. We nibbled our brunch, when Sarah finally decided to speak.

"Are you going to be like this the whole day?"

Well, I did hope she'd say something nicer, though I couldn't blame her. I was being unfair to her for being grumpy for no reason and not telling her the truth. Although, I did have a good excuse now that I think about it.

"I promise you, I won't," I said with my mouth full to add a bit of humour to the seriousness of the conversation about to start. "I just have a bad day."

Again, I knew I made a horrible mistake for lying to her. How could I expect to fool her? She gave me the exact look I was suspecting she'd give me, and I turned away in response, angrily biting off the second cheese stick. Maybe I wasn't lying at all. It actually was a very dull day today. I felt like it sucked all the life I possessed from me. Trust me, it didn't feel quite nice.

After silence was filling the air a bit too long, Sarah once again opened her mouth.

"You're really going with that?" she said mockingly. "We both know there's much more to it than 'just a bad day'."

"Then if you know me better than I know myself, why don't you enlighten me what this is about?"

The comeback was completely unnecessary, though I felt like I had to say something in return. It wasn't fair she always knew what's up with me and it kinda annoyed me from time to time that she always demanded to know everything. To be honest, I quite never did the same to her in such amount.

Sarah pouted her lips as her eyes flew far away from my face, letting me know I made a mistake. Why did we always have to play this silly little game? Why didn't she just tell me straight what's bothering her?

"I won't push you into telling me something you do not wish to tell or do not wish me to know, but I'll tell you one thing." Her voice was filled with offence and disappointment, showing she was, however, a bit hurt. "I know this thing really beat you down, it's practically written all over your face. But you know you can tell me anything. I'm not here to judge you. If I wanted to leave, trust me – I'd be long time gone."

We often had this sort of conversations, but mainly when the situation was a slightly bit less critical and devastating. Our friendship has never been up to this point where we were forced to start doubting our mutual trust and interests. It was in our nature to overthink every word we say and every move we make. But so far we managed to pull off quite an extraordinary relationship that could not be neither lost or replaced. We both valued each other's virtues too much to let it all go because of a few flaws we both possess and mistakes we both make. We were grown-up women, ready to talk it through like it was appropriate.

"If this has left you this desperate to not know where you belong any more, I think you should tell me." Sarah put down her meal in her lap and was now staring at me. I wasn't used to being taken care of this much, although we became friends practically the day we met and we got along instantly. "You know we could not lose you know, Julia. This is the very moment, the state in your life when you have to give all you have. All you worked so hard for."

My eyes flew away from hers since I felt a bit too embarrassed to keep looking at them. My shoulders dropped as I looked away, and Sarah knew she hit the soft spot. I couldn't hide it any longer.

"I think I'm no equal to the task I have been given," I started slowly. "I know it may seem like I'm hesitating and turning tail, but I genuinely believe I won't be able to do this as it should be done. Think of me as a weak person now, but that's just the truth."

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was the right thing to do – I don't know. All I knew was that something has been kept from her too long and I craved her comfort, her telling me I'll be okay. Because she was the only one that ever made me feel safe. The only one that showed enough effort to prove she cared. And that was enough for me.

"You know I won't judge you, I don't dare to. After all you've been through, I thi-"

"Don't, Sarah. I've told you many times I don't want you to pity me for what happened to me." I felt obliged to say what's truly on my mind. I knew too well I could just nod and agree with her, join her to pity myself. But I also knew myself as well, and by that the fact that I couldn't never let this happen to me; to make someone else feel sorry for me. Sure, it happened quite on a daily basis back then when the thing was still fresh, but now I knew the only option left was to move on from this. Leave this in the past, where it belonged.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, though. I understand you. It's hard to know exactly what to say in this kind of situation. I guess the best thing to do is to just leave it as it is, for time will heal everything. But I do appreciate the thought." Now I was brave enough to look her in the eyes once again. "To be completely honest, I think this should be assigned to someone else. Not that I won't make time for it or avoid it, I just think Mr Huttington deserves a well-written article, because after all... It might just save our company, so I don't like to even think about failing. This needs to be put in professional hands of someone who is in this with their heart and mind. Which I'm definitely not."

Sarah's eyes gave away that she simply could not agree with me. Were we back on that track again?

"I totally get it, Julia. But just think – who puts words together better than you? Who can find that right amount of sarcasm and humour to fill the article with its evergreen greatness? Who would swap with you?"

Those questions filled my head and they didn't seem to be leaving it any time soon. I knew Sarah was right. But was she only trying to encourage me or was it really true that no one could _really _write it better than me? Maybe I should look out for new opportunities, for new challenges. But I recently realized it might be a bit of a big burden to bear to have the whole crew expecting such killer article to save this whole situation. It was next to impossible.

"You're right, you're always right... I'm making an unnecessary fuss about it, like always. But George hasn't send me a single text that would include any kind of information about what's going on. That's not quite normal, is it?"

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move. He's testing you, and this is your chance to show yourself to the world in full light. This is your big break-through and this time _you _will get the credit for it, not George or anyone else, for that matter."

She had a point. This was all going to be mine and mine alone. But the nervousness crept inside me again, thinking of the unnecessary consequences, issues and complications. I wouldn't let my bad side win once again.

I leaned to her and formed a sincere 'thank you' with my eyes and she smiled in response. I did not know in that moment why I needed such long time to be persuaded in this. Maybe it was only for good, to not be able to be dragged in some scheme that easily. But sometimes it could be a bit of a drag, not believing some things are really going to come out great for you. I could easily blame it on my trust issue, but deep down I knew this whole thing held much more responsibility and thoroughness that some people might have imagined. This was no time to quarrel, though, so I decided to just go with it. Now, what choice do I really have?

Sarah and I were now back safe in our small office with extremely bad air conditioning, ready to do some work. While I was busy checking some things for my later articles, a phone rang on my wooden desk. I was surprised to get a call at this hour, since other companies or our sponsors or even wrong numbers called more frequently in the morning hours, yet when I picked up the phone I did not sound surprised, just casually curious. But the voice on the other side got me indeed very surprised, to say the least.

"Miss Grady? I do hope I'm not disturbing or interrupting an important meeting of some sort," the strangely familiar voice said that sent shivers from my forearm right to the shoulder blades in a matter of seconds.

"No, no, of course not," I replied chuckling like a little girl. Very convenient, yes.

He chuckled back, yet in his own infamous way, that was actually getting on my nerves by now.

"If that's so, I have a favour to ask of you." Dear lord.

"Of course, bring it on!" I said softly, mentally slapping myself for saying that idiotic intrusiveness. He did not seem to care for he continued like he didn't even hear me. Or he was actually too engrossed with developing a well-worded English way of putting this favour of his to my ears.

"As your boss Mr Chapple lovely put that you have to finish your article by the end of the month, I'd like to set this meeting of ours on this Friday, if it's okay with you?" Since I didn't let out any noise at all, he gently added something to fill the awkwardness slowly overcoming the conversation. "For I have several other meetings later and I wanted to get over with this as quickly as possible. This way it will be better for both of us. Just let me check the date..."

"It's March the fifth," I roughly interrupted him for being a few steps ahead of him. Let's admit it; it was more my job taking care of the arrangement dates than his. All it took him was being as tall as he is and putting on some Dolce & Gabbana suit and that's it. Not to mention how much he's getting paid for just being him.

I think I lost him when he said that thing about finishing the article. How did he know all these things before me? When did George even settled for this? He surely did somewhere where I was not present, which I might add is really confusing. He expected so much from me, yet didn't even give me basic details and information about the whole thing. How was I expected not to make a fuss about this?

"Yes, you're quite right actually. So what do you think?" The silence was our best friend once again and this time I was not waiting for dear Mr Huttington to charmingly break it.

"Let me check my calendar and I'll message you back in a moment." Something inside me was telling me I should do a few things before saying a full yes or no to the film star.

"All right then. It was nice chatting with you, Miss Grady," he briefly added.

"Oh, Julia, please." I simply said in response, trying to be as patient and as polite as I possibly could be, but rage was boiling inside me.

"Sure. Till the next time then, Julia." And he hung up. Finally.

The phone somehow managed to leave my palm as it landed on the desk, which I could acknowledge from the rough sound, but my body did not stop for one second to check if it's still in one peace. My mind was focused on something else.

"Where's George?" I asked the first person I met on the hallway.

"I think he's in his office, as usual," the woman replied and I flew by her immediately. This time it won't be some embarrassing situation spoiling my intentions. Not that I would let it.

I opened the door quite aggressively, which caused George to widen his eyes even more as they already were. The confused look on his face that gave of that innocent image of his pissed me off in no time.

"Would you like to tell me when exactly were you planning on telling me that Mr Huttington already knows half of the things about this adventurous little interview that I don't?"

My heartbeat was so loud I could hear it pump in my ears. This was no longer his funny game he was playing. This was getting out of hand.

"Just don't go with that soft talk of yours where you'd say you're so extremely utterly sorry. Because it won't work this time." I looked away through his window, for I could not stand catching his gaze after the words I was about to speak. "George, I don't think you realize how serious this is. I don't think you even know yourself how far you're willing to go until I'd eventually leave."

His face seemed did not seem too impressed by my emotional outpour, letting me know my words have not effected him in any way whatsoever. I was hurt, lost and humiliated. I've never seen George behave so apathetically as he was right in that moment. My throat started to hurt from trying to hold back the mixture of rage and desperate sadness inside. Did he have no guilt inside him left? Why did it feel like he left me abandoned feeling like I'm some sort of robot, just executing his wishes and orders? Were we no longer as close as we once were?

So many doubtful questions started to pop inside my head, I just needed to sort them out somehow. Even if it meant hurting some people. Who cares, I'd only treat them as they treated me.

"George," I took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

Not until this point he didn't look me once in the eyes, now he was staring at me with his glasses off. How little did it take to finally catch someone's precious attention. I guess I wasn't worth it back then, when he didn't realize what he had.

But my decision was final and concluding. He couldn't convince me otherwise, for he had made quite a good impression of what he truly felt. And it was painful, sincere indifference.

"You cannot be serious, Julia." His jaw dropped hundred miles down.

"I'm more serious than you've ever taken me." It was a sneaky comeback, and I sensed it wasn't a sort of comeback he'd expect of me.

"This is it, George. We both know I'm excellent at my job and will get another one in no time. I've come to realize I've made a poor decision when I accepted this job. Though I can't blame myself now, could I? I had no idea someone would fuck me over as you did. Thanks, George. My experience from here will be far more in use than you can imagine."

I don't even remember breathing between these sentences, because I just had to let it out. I've had enough of his idiotic behaviour, unnecessary arrogance and silly pomp. It was right over the edge. Maybe others could tolerate it, but not me. Not when he gives me this sort of article (which wasn't even my field) and thinks he's a badass boss when he left me hanging and doubting myself the whole time.

"Julia, you can't just leave. I mean, we have this big thing coming up right-"

"No. Don't you understand that word? Have you heard it for the first time in your life? Though I'm sure it was the first time from me. I don't give a damn what kind of scheme you were preparing for me, or how deliciously you were planning to let me down once again. I've had enough. Believe it or not; even I am human and I have certain limits as well, even though you felt as if you have the full right to cross them each time. Well, guess what – I'm not to take for granted. You have a full squad of blind idiots right in front of your nose who might just do what you tell them for the next few months, but they have self respect, too." The last treat was waiting in my mouth to utter it. "And trust me; they _will_ notice. They will hear gossip about how and why I disappeared. And believe me just one more thing: they _shall _know _who's _to blame for letting this whole thing crumble to ashes."

By concluding my awfully confidential speech, I ran out of his office and slammed the door as hard as possible. I made my point, since many heads peeked out of the glass doors, eager to find out what all the fuss was about. Sarah was one of them.

She saw me walking down the hall pretty fast and she knew troubles will follow if she'd even dare to stop me. But she was always the one for challenges, so she dared. And as always, I let her.

"What the hell's going on?"

"I have no time for explanation," I said curtly. I didn't have the energy as well.

"How do you mean _"no time" _for explanation? Why the hurry?" She kept digging and I knew she's actually the only one here worth knowing the truth. And I'm sure she'd keep it if I told her so, but I had no intentions of hiding the true purpose of slamming that door so damn hard.

"I quitted my job." I heard Sarah taking a deep breath, ready to tell my why this was a bad, bad choice and try to convince me otherwise. But to be frank with myself; it was my only choice. I couldn't handle the humiliation and degrading any longer. I deserved better. I just didn't know how to tell this to Sarah in the way she'd understand.

"I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is." I found myself unable to say anything else, not in that moment. Maybe I'll be okay after even a few minutes, I just needed some of my own for now. Only me and my head. And a big box of my belongings.

"But-"

"Call me after work. We can sort this out accompanied with cocktails," Sarah said suddenly all calm and relaxed. I was half afraid and impressed of her unpredictable mood swings, and half thankful for always ending up agreeing with me. She understood me and my problems like no one else did. We all need a "Sarah" in our lives. Not to be permanently dependent of them, but to help us lift ourselves back up. She actually never directly helped me back up – she simply always found a way to get me to that point of being confident enough to put myself back on my feet.

"Couldn't agree more." I gave her a brief smile before fleeing from the staring pairs of eyeballs directed exactly at us. The last thing I needed was some drama being created over that little disagreement. But I suspected everybody knew I couldn't settle the gossip with just that simple fact; too simple it was mostly likely unreal. Because, after all, it was unreal. In that time of self-doubting crisis, I had to ask myself if I really cared what people were saying about me? Because I knew for sure that the fact I was better than them would be the reason they won't get much sleep at night if they would say anything made up about me. It would only cause them self-hatred (as it was already in their nature) and shame before themselves. So who's the real winner here?

I stepped in my office and grabbed everything I could reach. I gathered small figures which were supposed to be my lucky charms, my best friend, the silver stapler, Post-it notes, pens and pencils and other office material. Under my middle large table, there was that awful box that would contain all my things from the last months of working here. Each month I tried to do 'How to clean your office in five minutes tutorial!' that I found on YouTube, and on some extremely optimistic months I actually managed to threw away almost half of my office, which was an incredible success in my career. Somehow I was getting too emotional-attached to certain objects that had nostalgic value and I thought throwing them away would also be cutting a piece of me as well. But then I realized that was the only and most effective way of letting go. Just let it go.

Among the rather large amount things I happened to gather, I saw a small chain shining in the afternoon light. I picked it up from the pile and took a closer look. My eyes started to fill with tears when I saw the sign 'Best Employee of the Year'. It was still shiny and bright as new. It hurt me to look back in anger, to only acknowledge how blind I was before. I was mad to only remember the dark times, not also give attention to the good ones, even though I remembered them as good as the bad ones.

I heard someone saying letting go is like pulling out a decayed tooth. When it was pulled out, you were relieved, but how many times does your tongue run itself over the spot where the tooth was? Probably a hundred times a day. Just because it wasn't hurting you doesn't mean you didn't notice it. It leaves a gap and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It's going to take a while, but it takes time. Should you have kept the tooth? No, because it was causing you too much pain. Therefore, move on and let go. But those memories seemed ached more than just unhealthy tooth. They stroke me right in the heart, knowing I was forced to let them go and chose to forget them, because of someone else's inconsiderateness and apathy. To cause them injustice for making them believe it was their fault, for we all knew who's it really was.

The box was starting to fill up once I glanced at it after nostalgia has calmed down within me. I checked around if I missed any urgent objects that would be in use for later, but I seemed to clear it all quite thoroughly. I kept everything in place, because I was sort of addicted to order and knowing where everything was. It was just my thing and I haven't changed in a bit. That reminded me of what I'm actually doing. I'm standing up for myself, for what I believe and deserve. There was nothing wrong in what I was doing. It was perfectly legitimate and fair. But mostly, fair to me.

Once it was almost over-the-edge full, I took it to my chest slightly out of breath, realizing its real weight. The weight of me leaving this building for good. No turning backs, no regrets. My head was running crazy and honestly, I could not wait for this day to come to an end so I could simply and in peace sit next to my best friend and let out my deepest secrets and fears to her.

Alcohol wasn't always my first and foremost choice of solving my problems. But it was effective, in a way that I saw solving those issues out I wouldn't really come up with sober. Let's just admit to ourselves; alcohol is a lifesaver and life ruiner at the same time. If you took advantage of it too often, it could lead to slow and painful disintegration, but otherwise it could open your eyes way more than coffee and a pack of cigarettes could.

With a little help with friends, that's all you need. That's why I needed Sarah so much to be a part of my life. Not to only take what I can get from her to feel better for myself, not for exclusively selfish reasons. But for what I could also give her in return. It was like a contract signed by both of us, mutually agreeing we'll help each other out from the worst situations ever to the most ordinary problems a girl could have. We were connected with this bond of symbiosis we couldn't ever break, otherwise it would cause ruin to both of us.

I was halfway to my locker by now, still breathing quite loudly and heavily while holding that giant box in front of my nose. Others seemed to be too busy with their ordinary work to help me out, thank god. I wouldn't want anyone to see this awfully disgraceful walk of shame towards my possible devastation.

Let's be frank; we all know this could be the end of me. I wasn't really that optimistic and confident as I appeared to be in George's office. It was just an image I liked George to remember me after once I was fully done with this company. I knew nothing about other companies wanting me like they used to after Sarah told me the public gossip about high-society people wanting me as one of their own. I wasn't even sure what else I could do besides writing, if it would turn out I would have to get a job that doesn't not include writing. Maybe I could teach or have creative writing classes, but both of these are doomed to fail. I'd love to teach kids of how to get that thing called writer's block out of themselves, and just dip into the subject and see how beautiful the sentences are once they set themselves free. I'd be honoured to do such thing as passing on what guides me as a writer.

But things like that rarely happen in reality. In fiction movies, yes, but not in real life. We're just foolishly, yet brilliantly brainwashed by media wanting us to reach to the stars, but realizing halfway through what fools we truly are. I have nothing against following your dreams, after all – I'm a great example of someone who captured them and turning them into reality. But being over-confident about reality and things unlikely to happen, you can get easily carried away by sweet temptation of becoming someone you're likely never gonna become. Because so many other things come between. So many factors deciding and guiding your future, you rarely become the one responsible for it.

I dropped the box on the tiled floor in the changing room. At times I wasn't even sure why we had this room, although some people had really small offices and couldn't stuff all of their equipment  
inside a small square space, only wide enough to put in a desk and an armchair.

While the key was slipping from my fingers each time I tried to pull it out from my pocket, I heard footsteps behind me. I was a bit freaked out since only last night I was watching a really scary movie and was still traumatized from that awful experience. But once I turned, I didn't saw a serial killer dressed all black with a mask and a knife, but poor Janice standing behind one of the small benches in the middle of the room.

"Janice? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Julia. I just wanted to say goodbye," she said silently, almost whispering, which was a good idea at the time. I really didn't want to make a fuss about this, although it was probably much too late.

"How do you-"

"I eavesdropped," she cut me off. "You know me."

The answer to that statement was actually negative, but I could imagine Janice as a top secret agent, being on several highly confidential missions. Anyway, putting imagination aside, I was wondering how nobody saw her.

"When you and George were fighting, everybody stepped out of their office. Like in an instant," she began to answer my question. "I was one of them as well, wanting to convince myself if all the circus that was going on was really worth paying attention to rather finishing my over-the-phone interview. And I was correct. It was something worth waiting until the end to see how things would fall."

I saw a spark of mischief flashed her eyes and an awfully evil grin stretched across her mouth. More and more often I became frightened of how spooky Janice could seem. I definitely would not wish to be interrogated by her on the top of some building. For I'd definitely not tell the secret and she'd, now without any doubt, throw me off of that ridiculously high building without hesitation.

"I noticed it got a bit crowded around Mr Chapple's office, so I decided to put an end to this rumpus. People actually listened to me once for a change, and the hallway emptied in a matter of seconds, yet with people giving me the looks. I kept the best part for myself and kept a close eye on the things happening inside and outside that office."

"You freak me out sometimes, Janice," I said without a slight regret. Her expression was priceless.

"Thank you."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to pack my things now before people start rushing over here."

I finally unlocked my locker and pulled out all my clothes and unstuck the small pocket mirror that served its job really well. I stuff all the things that end up in my palm in my handbag and grabbed the black Marella coat I got at sale. The sadness in Janice eyes that followed my every move was contagious. I could not deny that leaving it all in such hurry and need wasn't the way I'd expect to end my career at _Weeky Traveller_'s. I don't know how I'd imagine myself leaving this, probably because I haven't even thought of it. I just knew I didn't want it to be like this. This harsh and cruel. It's almost grotesque how we are forced to decide on certain things in a minute time, even if it was our career on the stake. Some things are worth risking, I guess. And that was definitely keeping myself real and knowing where I stand. Knowing my identity.

The clock has just struck half past seven and I was still waiting in this disgusting bar of Sarah's choice, waiting for Sarah herself. We agreed on around seven o'clock, but she messaged me she had some difficulties in her home. I could only imagine what exactly she meant by that.

As the bartender was starting to look at me really odd and suspicious, almost willing to offer me free drink as if I was left in the lurch by some careless guy, I saw Sarah running down the street in a cute black sleeveless dress with silver collar, filled with small diamonds and rocks. Her naturally flaxen hair was casually dancing in the mild wind, her lips shining in baby pink colour. When she drew nearer, I could her her high heels stump on the hard concrete. They were actually the only one sophisticated enough she could afford for semi-formal events like this one. It was, after all, Friday night, and we were stuck in this strange bar I have never been to. My best friend, on the other hand, seemed to be quite familiar with it, since I literally saw her waving at three people at the same time as she was coming closer to our table.

"Well look at you, you lovely lady!" I stood up, spreading my arms to her.

"Oh my god, Julia, you look fantastic! Especially for someone who just proudly quit!" She was known for being honest, so I chose to ignore her bad choice of words.

I must confess I wasn't bad-looking tonight myself. I decided to wear my burgundy red knee-length dress with short sleeves and a hell of a cleavage. My neck was adorned with fake white pearls, just enough thick to add some classiness to my look. I was wearing black velvet, slightly rounded pointy toe shoes of some famous brand, but it totally slipped my mind which. I got them for my prom actually, and they were timeless. Some clothing pieces just never go out of fashion.

"So," Sarah said loudly to drown out the music playing in the background. "Tell me everything."

Nothing, but completely nothing, held me back. All the while she nodded and added some of juicy words of her own while I was continuing with telling her my part of the story. She confirmed Janice's theory I shared with her, saying she had absolutely no idea she was such a gossip girl (although she did work in so-called "gossip" department).

The evening was relaxing, joyful and cheerful. My red lipstick vanished almost after ten minutes after Sarah's arrival, due to my extensive storytelling. She was utterly impressed by my courage and confidence, reminding me I have to maintain it. Sarah also pointed out that I'll get another job in no time. If other public media was following my articles, which without doubt they did, they were also aware of that little incident by now, and will be all over me for accepting their tempting offer.

"Though you have to be extremely careful with one thing," Sarah said, leaning over me a bit closer. Her breath smelled of Martini's and I could not deny that applied to me as well. "You have to look out for the bosses. You know what they can be like."

She devoted me a lifted eyebrow and nestled back in her seat. I was absolutely sure that was alcohol speaking instead of her, yet she was right. They say we always have to listen carefully what people have to say to us once their under the influence.

"I don't know what you mean." I tried her patience.

"You know, being all cheeky and stuff. You never know what you're gonna get."

Was she implying something? I had to go to the bottom of this.

"I still don't understand you."

"Oh god. I knew I couldn't keep it inside me much longer." She dropped her glass of the cocktail on the table and looked me in the eyes. Signs of being intoxicated were now obvious from space.

"Do you remember Mitch? _The _Mitch?"

Since I was no better than her, just knowing when to keep my mouth shut, my memories was playing tricks with me. Somehow all the memories from my former job were now hazy and honestly I had no intentions of bringing them back.

I shook my head and she sighed as if she's about to confess me a lifetime story.

"Mitch Farhall? Nothing? Okay, never mind. He was once George's replacement when he flew to Canary Islands for business. We kind of... hooked up?"

Her voice was shaky, but not in the frightened way. She was willing to say this as much as I was willing to listen. She knew what's to follow, but she spit it out anyway.

"He was... in a relationship at the time. And he cut it off for me. Just for me, can you imagine? What gentleman does that?"

"None, I suppose," I answered frankly.

"Exactly. That's why it seemed so suspicious to me. So when we were-"

Suddenly she froze in the middle of the sentence, her eyes focused on an object behind me. My head seemed to heavy to turn around and see for myself, but after a few seconds of her remaining silent and still as if she saw a ghost, I had to ask.

"Now who would caught your precious gaze?"

I tried to keep it as mockingly as I possibly could, because she started to freak me out. She did not even flinch. She didn't even touch her Martini, for Christ's sake.

"Sarah. Peekaboo!" Even my tremendous humour that caught me laughing at my own jokes could not make her move.

"You have to see this," she suddenly uttered and my stomach made a somersault. I was literally afraid of what sight I might witness.

"Is it someone I hate? Is it?" I was starting to panic.

"Oh come on, just turn around. I guarantee you'll enjoy." Her lips made a devious grin and once again, my heartbeat raised to ten beats per second.

I obeyed and prepared myself for the most unflattering scenarios I could imagine; whether it was my parents, ex school-mates or someone I had a one-night-stand with. All the bad choices I made in my life popped into my head, but once I did open my eyes to the direction Sarah's were pointed, nothing could compare to the real sight.

My mouth parted slowly as I saw Mr Huttington casually hanging at the bar. He was alone. By himself. No fans around him, just other couples or same loners as him. I actually felt sorry for him.

As I turned back to my friend, she was giving me such nasty look, I couldn't help myself but fall into uncontrolled laughter. She did, however, made the best grimaces.

After some seconds of laughing and hurting my abs, her dirty look did not disappear. She was once again implying something and I did not like it at all. Neither was it amusing, it was simply intruding.

"No. Sarah, no. Not this time."

I knew she was too intoxicated to control herself and there was no way of persuading her to not force me into greeting him. I've had enough drama for one day. Hell, for the rest of my life.

"But he looks sooo lonely and so well-dressed it would be a shame if you wouldn't go there and just say hello to the poor fellow."

She was doing this now fully aware and with utter joy that was near to impossible to hide. Not that she tried.

"Are you serious? I'm not walking up to that man. Do you realize what a fool I would make of myself if I were the first to greet? Don't even let me start with the list of reasons why a woman should _never _walk up to the guy first."

Sarah let out a brief chuckle before turning dead serious again. Her eyes were centred straight into my soul.

"Give me your best," she said with a voice of a murderer. Obviously I knew she was kidding, but somehow she did expect me to say something back.

"Maybe he came here to escape the pressure of being in the centre of attention and under this huge pressure the whole time. Maybe he wanted a casual Friday night just to himself-"

"Which is completely normal for a fully grown up, drop-dead gorgeous guy who was by the way _Elle's Man of the Year, _and is probably single only because he simply cannot find his soul-mate in the horde of women all age just craving his reproductive organ in their mouth instead of giving the effort to win his heart," Sarah cut me off without pardon.

"Lovely put, Sarah, just lovely. May I continue?"

"Only for a short time, unless he'll get away from you." She probably didn't get the punchline, yet she looked at me with strange spark enlightening her blue eyes.

"_Or,_" I continued with fake confidence. "He just might be waiting for his darling that society has, yet not heard of. You do realize how "private" he is about his private life."

"Tim Huttington's girlfriend never seeing the light of flashing paparazzi cameras? You've gotta be shitting me. I recall saying 'Give me your best.' Was I not clear enough?" Sarah was getting pretty annoying by now, so I decided to cut to the chase before things could get worse.

"I have nothing to do with the man any more. I no longer work for _The Weekly Traveller, _and the article will just have to be assigned to someone else. Perhaps even you." My eyes were wandering around the place, my brain working as hard as it could in given circumstances, searching for enough interesting topic to distract Sarah with, directing her in the opposite way this conversation was heading. And I didn't prefer to let it and as it was about to end if I wasn't about to do anything about it quickly enough.

"Fair enough. But does he _know _about your little outrage?" I caught her grinning widely and we both knew she won this one. I was praying and hoping she wouldn't get to this point, for it was a point of no return. I was positive once she'd hit it, she wouldn't let go of what she's found. Even when she was drunk she could not hide her evil-plotting genes.

But I wasn't ready to let go that easily.

"Sarah, this isn't a game to me any more. He was strictly connected to work, which is now fully gone. If he wants to know the truth he can call George any time he wants, since they seem like they're suddenly best buds. Although, I'm not sure what sort of truth or rather which part of it would George tell him..." Oh why did I must say that out loud.

"See! That's why _you _have to tell him your own and the only real truth yourself. You never know what sort of lies George will spread about you. But if you tell Tim the truth, if you have _him _on your side, you win."

She was right. As usual. But sometimes I just couldn't obey her, because she was too right and at times the feeling of doing the right thing didn't seem quite right. See my point?

"This night was supposed to be for us and us alone. Not some guy, no matter how famous he is, coming between us and wrecking the whole thing. I'll tell him over the phone, it's less painful."

"And more cowardly." Instead of Sarah's high-pitched voice striking in my ears, I heard a deep voice behind me. The voice I always found myself being afraid of and especially hoping to not hear it today.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay; things have been crazy this month. Anyway, here it is! The fourth chapter already. I'm glad I managed to write it off pretty well actually, regarding the circumstances *proud face* . Lots of things are coming up!**

Thanks to all who have read it so far, and if you're enjoying my story, please leave some review/alert! :)

**Till the next time...**


	5. Chapter 5

My gaze fell down to my trembling hands, desperately curling over the stalk of the empty Martini glass. Sarah was as silent as if she were dead, yet I could feel her feet bumping into mine under the table. Each time I'd exchange a gaze with her, she'd encourage me with her look to say something back to the poor chap. And eventually I did. I had to.

"I-I'm so very sorry, Mr Huttington. I should've explain it to you-"

"No need to force yourself now, Mrs Grady, when we're face-to-face. It's probably a lot more difficult for you." He wasn't in the mood for humour and neither was I. We're going to end this properly and appropriately, as real business partners do. I owed him at least that much.

"My behaviour was not on point, I admit. But if I'm to be honest tonight, I might as well confess I'm under the influence and do not know what I'm speaking of. And I'm a bit sleepy as well, therefore acting as a silly child. So treat me as such and forgive me." Even I was surprised at the well-put answer I had in store for the actor in front of me, whose lips were as still as a stone, but his eyes were cheerfully greeting mine. His dark blond hair was brushed in perfect amount of boyish curls; some of them even escaped on his forehead which made him come off like a lost boy even more. His grey, stylish tux and white shirt beneath, opened just for one button to unfold his chest, helped him fulfill the juvenile look he's been trying to achieve. And he indeed succeeded.

"You are forgiven, my lady," he made a jest about my language which was his speciality among theatre acting of his when performing Shakespeare's plays. I thought that kind of acting was the only one worth of its title. "Now, if you'd be so kind and generous, would you like to go outside and explain what's going on?"

Despite his charm and playful gaze just a moment ago, he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Only now I've come to realize how annoying and inconvenient that can appear now that someone was behaving alike me. I instantly started to despise him even more so.

I glanced back to Sarah for approval that was now supporting her head with her right palm, obviously bored by our small talk. She woke up once I bumped her leg and she gave me a dangerous gaze that served its purpose quite well. When she realized what the awkward silence was about, she just nodded automatically and smiled politely to the actor. We were both extremely embarrassed. I mean Mr Huttington and myself.

"Okay then." I wanted to move my chair so I would stand up as a proper lady, but Mr Huttington overhauled me and happily obliged to do it instead of me. Should have expected that from a man famous for his gentleman-like attitude.

It was nice bumping into someone who knows where their manners are from time to time. It was almost refreshing, I dare to day. But I still disliked him as much as I liked his little thoughtful gesture.

"Shall we?" He stretched out his arm to the direction where the exit doors were located. A smirk flashed my face against my will. He radiated some sort of positive energy even when he was pissed off that I could not resist. "Don't be silly," a voice inside my head said and it was right. I couldn't let him enchant me with his angel eyes and that grin of his that sends shivers down every girl's spine.

Now it was time to think of serious things. Things happening in reality and right now. The only thing I should be thinking of this moment should be coming up with a brilliant solution for how to slip away from this sticky situation in shortest time possible. I gulped, but stayed as strong as my knees would allow. To be honest, I haven't given much thought about explaining everything about my outburst to Mr Huttington. None, to be precise.

Once I stepped out that exit door as Mr Huttington happily held them for me, and once the cold air burst into my face, that was when I realized how serious this whole thing was. Letting Mr Huttington down with never-even-started interview, letting my former job, that was once upon a time my priority in life, crumble and having my hands tied, was the most uncomfortable position I was ever in, but I knew it's only for the best for my sake. Now I only had to figure out a way do decently approach this matter to my ex-client who was standing next to me outside the pub in freezing cold. At least he had a jacket; I was only appointed with my dark-coloured bolero that was barely covering my waist.

His strangely gleaming eyes were centred in mine, which made the whole situation a thousand times more awkward and inevitable. He was doing this on purpose, without doubt. I bet he knew very good what he does to women all over the world with that glance of his, little bastard.

"Here, have my jacket. You're trembling," he roughly interrupted the silence. It was actually very inconvenient since I was trying to come up with good excuse to justify my irresponsible actions in the near past.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." I tried to sound professional and steady, but the cold did get to me.

"Then I suggest you start talking before freezing to death."

I hated when people made jests like this. Thinking they're being really cool playing sneaky and evasive. I could tell him straight in the face that this position was, of course, not very comfortable for me as well, but I was short on time and ran out of creative comebacks, due to my blood being filled with alcohol from which I did not benefit from in any way when coming up with some sort of sufficient sentence to end it all here and now.

He started to sense the rising panic within me, so he offered to start the talking first. "I know it's really awkward for you and all, but you had to think once or twice about facing the consequences. What you'll have to say to me and at least making it look authentic enough to convince me it really wasn't your fault."

Somehow I had a feeling he seemed to know a lot more I'd expect him to. I pouted out my lips and narrowed my eyes to show my doubt and clear confusion, but he didn't get the signs. He just went on.

"Things like that happen a lot in the business. I understand that it was the first time for you and that you obviously weren't thoroughly and appropriately prepared so-"

"Why are you jumping to conclusions? Haven't you heard that's typical for mediocre people, which I'm sure is not what you think of yourself? You have no right to suspect anything, until you know the real facts of what happened." My voice was shaking and I was vulnerable. It was not in the least professional of me to say these things, but to hell with it. Since what I did to the company won't get me any recommendation whatsoever, it didn't really matter if I say everything that held me back so long.

Bewilderment flashed his angel eyes, his lips parted slowly. He surely did not expect that. I was fully aware that he actually _has _the right to suspect really anything, since _he _agreed to _our _offer and the terms including it. Acknowledging that, I sort of already prepared for a cruel victory from the actor's part.

"Trust me, I am fully aware of the necessary facts." His voice was pompous and in that moment I knew he was back to his old habits. Time to strike back.

"Then how come you come to me for explanation when you have all the sources you need yourself?"

"Every story has two sides," he replied shortly.

"I think you already know the side that matters, so what's the point?"

He seemed lost, like he ran out of words to speak.

"What's the point of keep digging into this when everything's long gone? Trying to bring something dead back to life is like watering a fake plant." I had no intentions of hurting that man, that's why I was being so rudely honest with him. I knew that was what he truly deserved and the only thing he needed.

"You're right, I do know the side that might matter to you," he said, looking back at me with his eyes widen. Why was he so into this thing? "But it doesn't matter to me, if it does not include the one that wrote the whole story."

With that, he shut me up. Why were we fighting over this? He should be at some party at the moment, not arguing with an average journalist about quitting her job. It all sounded way too surreal to be true.

"Why are you fighting with me over this? You might think you'll win, but the truth is nothing will change my mind. What's done is done, and what's in the past is in the past." I was getting desperate by now, my arms crossing over my chest to protect myself from sharp wind cutting my skin.

Mr Huttington stepped a bit closer, taking off his probably over thousand pounds worth jacket and spun it over my shoulders. I was very grateful for that gesture, but I refused it once again as he was trying to fully cover me in his outwear.

"Please, I'll never forgive myself if you'll get ill because of me." His voice turned soft and I felt safe under his short warm embrace.

That sounded rather intrusive, but I let him do it anyway. He seemed so eager about fulfilling his gentleman duties like it was a matter of life or death. He was, however, despite all his bad sides I discovered today, a good and fair man. I couldn't let myself do him wrong by refusing to give him a chance. He had the right to know what's up, but to be honest, I was afraid of his response or reaction. Would he be disappointed in me for failing or giving up? Will he try to convince me, but then come to realize there's no way of changing my mind, just proving my theory I confessed to him earlier? He was so bloody tall and his hair was waving perfectly that I even started trembling at the sight of him. Which sounded completely teenager-like and I was ashamed of my thoughts and could only thank god for not letting Mr Huttington hear them.

Right now, when I was standing so near him to feel his warm breath, life didn't seem at all so complicated as it really was. It was stupid of me to think a complete stranger could do things like that to me, but it was true. A real feeling I was experiencing. No matter how strange and odd it was, I was never the one for denying. More like hiding. But let's leave that. There was something about him and he did not drive his fans crazy over nothing. His posture was straight and proud, his chest wide and manly, when his face was as innocent and at the same time so attractive it could only belong to a fallen angel from heaven.

What was I even thinking? I left my thoughts somewhere on vacation and let warm, girly feelings overcome my being. No. That was not what I was trained in. I was a professional in hiding those feelings, stuffing them back inside where they belonged in hope they will never show up again. Because those emotions are never in use. They only expose you and make you feel vulnerable which you really don't need in this world full of hypocrites and hunters, only waiting for your fall. It often seemed like sometimes life intentionally threw you some of the little pieces of happiness and then also pieces of sadness and loneliness, until you realize this is what life is made of. What completes you. I was just unable to find any sense in that. Maybe that was my biggest fault, bigger than all the others I found so significant. Trying to find purpose in things that aren't made for making any sense, but to just letting them come in your life.

I wasn't afraid of admitting that I didn't get life and that it scared the hell out of me. What I was most afraid was what will happen next. After all the things we'll say tonight, after people will sleep it off and see things differently tomorrow when the day starts. What will they say about me? But then again, why was I bothering myself with that? Yet once I look it from another point of view, that's what I was used to. I lived off critics and people who gave some sort of opinion about me. Oscar Wilde once said that there's only one thing worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about at all. Behind my always optimistic attitude on point, this scared little girl was hiding behind me, her arms embracing her lap. She was frightened and she didn't know which way to turn.

"As the news is already familiar to you, I quitted my job today. Meaning my interview with you is also cancelled. Most likely never going to see the light of the day," I started after goosebumps somehow faded away. This was harder than I thought, minding the fact I haven't given it much attention except those past fifteen minutes which have been the most frightening moments of my life.

The way I started justifying my actions and taking responsibility for them wasn't a good start. Mr Huttington was well-known especially for his positivity and being an eternal optimist. That's why breaking the news (even if he was already aware of it) to him directly was so hard and uncomfortable as it was. He probably expected me to provide him with some potential proposals of how to carry out the interview anyway, since he said he likes those things to be done as they were meant to be done. But something was eating me inside. Being torn apart between following his intentions or break the bond forever. Now that I think about it the second option seemed more rational and reasonable thing to do. But was it really the right one?

"And what is in your intention to fix that?" he asked softly, speaking to me more in like father-daughter way.

"I think I'll have to disappoint you with that. You see, I don't think this interview has any potential whatsoever. Do not get me wrong; nothing is wrong with the person being interviewed," I laughed to hide my fear. "But something is very wrong with the interviewer, to be honest."

I ended the sentence with light sadness in my voice and sorrow filling my eyes. No matter how hard I tried, leaving this job that meant the world to me was really the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And I expected him to not understand at all, for his job was something he really liked to do and had zero chance of quitting from some bureaucratic reason that would eventually ruin his career.

"My publicist won't like that. Neither do I, in that matter."

My chest was ready to explode. I was only waiting for something like that to leave his mouth, any kind of trace of disappointment and disapproval that would crack me in two instantly. And that was definitely it. The moment of demolition of each fraction of morality and ethic still aggressively living within me.

"Things like that happen and sadly it happened to me. It's not like you're getting it any worse, it's me who ended up unemployed." My voice was as sharp as a knife, not minding to use any manners what was left of them.

He was about to speak but I cut him off. "There's nothing to be done. Anyway, I can't make this happen on my own. I started this still fully employed and equipped with necessary material to make this happen. I cannot continue completely on my own, with no protection, any label to publish it under and to be honest, a bad reputation."

Reflection in his eyes made me believe the last bit of hope inside him died with this sentence. My head hurt really bad by now and I knew this wasn't going to end up well. But he insisted and he is, in spite everything, a famous actor which I cannot just simply refuse. Nothing made sense any more, the words were getting mixed up in my head and my vision was getting blurry. The whole reality seemed hazy and too bad to be true. I was not ready to swallow yet another disappointment in my life, being unemployed and eventually homeless. Did I really have it coming? Social suicide, not to mention complete disgrace in front of a million-dollar man? Let's just say this kind of ending of my career as a potential journalist was at the bottom of my list.

"We can fix all that, you know. Everything's possible if you just have a little bit of hope," he said tenderly.

"And thousand pounds," I finished his sentence.

His chuckle wasn't as nervous or tense as mine always came out. His foolish grin had me smiling as well, not knowing I was doing it myself.

"So you're not denying it? See, just another reason why this mission is really impossible."

"I'm not saying it's not true, but it can happen anyway. Maybe with a little bit of help, but the main thing, writing, is up to you and you know it," he replied.

"I'm sorry, but I would like to step out of this little game of yours. I can't do it. I don't even know why you're trying to make this happen more than I do, it's completely unnecessary and hopeless."

Before he answered once again to my pessimistic rhetorical question, he took in a deep breath. His hands came out of his trouser pockets and he placed them both on his hips.

"Because you have to keep fighting. I know life sometimes kicks you right in the arse and you might think nothing makes sense any more. But right in that moment you have to give your best. You have to collect each piece of energy you have left to succeed. That's the whole secret."

I was fed up with his eccentric bullshit by now and I've had enough. It was my decision, my call to end it any time I wanted to. I think he didn't realize how important this was also to me and how hard to choose to say goodbye to it all. He had his perfect job and perfect life, he knew shit about the real situation I was dealing with. I had a gut feeling about this ending this way. Maybe not so hostilely (at least in my mind), but he knew what he was dealing with when he chose to talk to me about this vulnerable thing in my most fragile state. Or maybe, just maybe, he was doing it all on purpose.

"Let me tell you one thing," I pointed my right index finger at him. I started to feel alcohol mixing and confusing my head, but I had to continue for both of our sakes. "You don't know absolutely anything about what I'm dealing with. Save yourself time and try not to pretend like you do. I believe you have all sorts of things you should be dealing with as we speak, not arguing with me."

My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth. But once I came to realize what I've actually just said, my eyes were instantly filled with regret. It didn't work. The puppy eyes, I mean.

Hurtful, weak smile flashed his face. First I thought he was hurt and I felt bad for what I said. But once he spoke again I knew it was no mistake I said the things needed to be said.

"Save _your_self time and start living the life you want to."

With those words he turned (by the way sneaking his jacket off my shoulders) and disappeared. He left me all alone in the sharp, still winter cold with my emotions and words. What I did was not at all professional and by all means not all right. I was sure he was as not hurt as he tried to show. He just made the performance to make me feel bad and he succeeded. He was an actor, for god's sake. I shouldn't expect any less of him.

I didn't burden myself with thinking if he returned back to the pub or vanished completely. All I could do was stand there, leaning on the wall of black bricks in the back of the bar, thinking of the possible consequences most likely to happen. Did I just screw up my biggest recommendation I could ever hope to get? My hands were shaking, different thoughts rambling through my head. Pictures of several variations of how my once promising career was about to end. And it seemed the only lifeline was now long lost and gone.

* * *

Few weeks have passed. Spring has progressed slowly, though my position has not changed since the incident. Thankfully there were still some simple jobs at disposal, not requiring any specific skills. Sometimes I forgot how lucky I was I got this job. We only learn what we had once it's gone. But that wasn't entirely true for me. I was already aware of how precious and valuable this place was, and how promising for me for the future. It's almost funny how it can all vanish in a matter of seconds. Of simple, plain words leaving somebody's mouth. Deciding about your next few months.

After the night out with Sarah I decided to start over. Maybe it was not the best decision I've made in my life, but the only one keeping me alive at that moment, for a start. It was a good start. So far I knew that well that I needed one; a clean slate. Not only with people around me but with myself as well.

The best I could find was service at Chen Soso's. The restaurant had quite a reputation, a good one. It was mostly known for the best choice for celebrities picking a place to eat in peace. Why, you ask. Well, probably because it's on top of a building with only sky above it. No paparazzis are allowed, they make sure of that rather thoroughly. It is, of course as it is expected from a luxurious restaurant, expensive and even I was wondering how I got so lucky. But since I started to learn how to appreciate things from the start and not waste my time questioning it, I just went with it. It never crossed my mind that something awfully embarrassing would ever happen to me here, thinking it's the safest place for me to withdraw from all the drama which is constantly being a loyal friend of mine. You couldn't blame me for making that choice, now could you?

Chen Sosa was quite a man, if I may add. To finally make things clear once and for all, I was not a person without any experiences whatsoever that just happened to get a well-enough paid job in a matter of couple of weeks. I realise lots of people would think of this as injustice or that I got this job righteously. Before I made my way to people like Mr Chapple (and, well, Mr Sosa as well, in that matter), I was just as meek and degraded as any recent graduate. Having my weak spots at disposal, letting every and each person know it's my first time in the real world. My mother had me working at some Inn in the neighbourhood and I had, in a way, no other option than to cook and do other household work as it was asked of me. I couldn't really complain, now could I? Though I am quite thankful for the experiences I gained from that and if I had another chance to relive it... I don't think I would do it any other way.

Since it was a beautiful Monday morning, we were expecting rather large number of guests and their guests, but to my surprise (and probably the whole staff's as well), not so many did show up as usual. That meant less labour for me. Though work was successfully distracting me from my latest dose of drama and I certainly was not ready for another one.

Chen Sosa was a man of honour and justice, he made that quite clear. He was not a tyrant, far from that. Maybe a mild despot with sharp mind. It was actually expected of him to be cruel to us, as they so proudly show in many films. The poor degraded workers waiting for boss's command. I didn't see it that way, to be honest. It was overall a new experience for me, hoping it'd be a good one.

"Where is everyone? We usually accept over twenty people by this hour," a voice whispered behind my shoulder.

It was Tanya, a Ukrainian tall dark-haired woman with heterochromia which she distinguished in. Her sharp Russian accent almost scared me a bit. I guess it has become a habit of mine to be automatically afraid of unfamiliar voices coming from behind.

"I know right? That seems rather suspicious. Is there something going on in the city?"

"Not that I'm aware of it," she said confusingly. Her curious colourful eyes were wandering around the place. "I'm sure I would be informed about it." Her familiar soft giggle followed.

"What was Chen's reaction to the empty hall? I'm sure he wasn't pleased." I ended the sentence with slight humour, trying to make the situation a bit less terrifying. I knew from the start I probably won't succeed.

"He took it quite all right. He just yelled for twenty minutes at almost half of the staff. You're lucky you weren't in there."

"Have you suffered with them?" Another attempted funny joke.

"Thankfully, no. But his majestic voice does spread miles around. I even got to catch some of his juicy Chinese curse words. I tell you they were-"

"Probably what you'll be haring next if you don't shut up this minute and get to work." Both Tayna and I trembled as our eyes took in the full sight of the infamous chef in front of us.

It was like one of those moments in elementary school when you used to be frightened right to the bones if the teacher caught you chatting. It was similar, except if I was caught back I'd still have a roof under my head. Now there's no joking around. Even if I was so free only two months ago to let myself cross many limits with my boss, my position here couldn't even dare to compare with the one I had at _The Weekly Traveller_'s. I knew where my place was, even if this time it wasn't among the top five.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, Mr Sosa. It won't happen again, I swear." I could see Tanya's knee shake during the time she was speaking to the boss.

"I know it won't, because next time it does, you'll be off to somewhere else. Same to you, young lady." His narrow eyes turned to me. I gulped at the dead-serious expression on his face. "If I ever caught you two chatting and wandering about again..." He ended the sentence with deadly voice and it seemed more than sufficient replacement of the part of the sentence missing to me.

Tanya and I both nodded at his eyes jumping from hers to mine. He dismissed us and went away as soon as he made sure we were scared to death. And he succeeded.

"That was intense!" Tanya laughed with ease, now that the big man was gone.

"Please, just give me a minute to let that sink in," I jested, but my voice was still quiet and tense.

A smirk flashed Tanya's thin lips and in that moment I realised yet another reason why I should never have befriended her. She was literally a magnet for troubles. But I kind of liked it. I wished I could see the world through her eyes, since she seems so carefree all the time. I know people have all sorts of issues and we never know what's happening inside one's home. But I think her everlasting optimism and thrill to search for adventures do give me some kind of new aspect on life. Certain things require that. And only a few people can offer you that sort of comfort.

Thinking of how Tanya played a big role in my current state of life, my thoughts wandered to Sarah. I still kept in touch with her, regardless of what happened. Meaning leaving her all alone and to herself that night when Mr Huttington dragged me out. She kind of held a grudge for a few weeks, but then quitted due to her very wise realisation that it leaded nowhere.

They both seemed to be equally supportive and kind to what I've been through and I think I've never felt more accepted in my entire life. Some people think you make the best friends in the early years of your life, but to be honest, I think years don't matter. What matters is when you find yourself for then is when you're capable of making true friends. Until then you only live in a shadow of a person you wish to be. And we all know there's no use in that.

* * *

It was now the middle of April, and it was all the same once again. I believe we all relieved a tiny bit, since most of us thought this was the end for all. I might just could have been.

I was washing the dishes at the back of the restaurant, when Tanya broke in the small room where I was working at the moment. She seemed a bit breathless for a moment, but soon she pulled back her old, mischievous expression.

"You won't believe this," she breathed as she moved to the counter across the room to rest. Her grin never left her lips.

"At the moment, judging your suspicious expression, I don't think I even want to know what you have up the sleeve."

"I'm sure you'll _love _this."

The way she stressed out the 'love' word gave me shivers right down my spine. I had a very good excuse for that.

"The last time someone told me that it didn't end up quite well," I replied. She didn't seem to have change her mood. Oh she was indeed up to no good. And this time, I wished to have no part in it. Not only because I was afraid of that inhumanely tall Asian guy, but because I wanted to avoid drama as much as I could. Though life so far hasn't spared me a bit in that part.

After I washed and cleaned the last dish in the sink and put everything on its place (Tanya sure waited until the end to make sure I'd devote her my full attention), she began to speak.

"During my ten-minute break, I slipped into Mr Sosa's office." I felt anger bursting inside me, all set to explode any time, but Tanya soon expertly cut me off as it was her undeniable wont. "Before you start judging and nagging all the way, let me first assure you that it was for a good cause."

I hardly believed those words, but then again – I also knew Tanya was good at heart. That didn't mean I trusted her like I used to trust people. It meant I knew her and she knew me. And we both agreed that was enough. She did choose a good timing, though. Mr Sosa was gone for some personal time-off and his assistant, who also happened to be his sister, lead the business while he was away.

"I'm sure," I answered. "Please, continue."

"I had a feeling something stinks once the staff started to notice there are not as many people as we're used to. We even noticed ourselves. I had to check for myself what all the fuss is about."

After she ended the sentence, an uncomfortable silence filled the air. I sensed a slight bit of tension mixing with it, but I had no reason whatsoever to be nervous about anything. Right?

"I haven't found anything on the mysterious mass disappearance, but I have found this under his desk," he said as silently as possible and handed me a piece of paper. Once I took a better look at it, I saw it was bound with a paper clip that held together exactly three papers. I started flipping the sides and taking a quick look at it, but saw nothing too suspicious to justify Tanya's weird excitement.

"There's nothing suspicious to be found," I broke the silence after a while. She didn't seem pleased.

"Well take a better look at it," she kept on going.

I knew I wouldn't win the quarrel if it were to happen, so I just went on and followed her instructions. This time I gave it a better look. It was only after a few seconds I saw a sentence that probably influenced on my mood and also my future more than anything ever has. Among other business-related things, something caught my eye very fast indeed. I had to reread the same part of the text three times before realizing it's actually true.

_Dearest Chen_

_We both know it's been quite a long time since we last saw each other. I miss you very dearly. Things have been … Rather strange lately, but in a very good way! I've done several projects of which I'm sure you've heard of, with many various artists as well. But something always seems to be missing. You, my dear friend._

_I wish to see you again as soon as possible, when both of our jobs will allow it. That is why I have a special favour to ask of you. I met this wonderful, utterly fascinating man, Archie Autenberry. We instantly fell in love; you know me. Silly old lady, twice divorced and with three all grown-up selfish children fighting for inheritance. With him I realized the meaning of life and I want to spend the rest of it with him. Oh, how silly of me. Please excuse me. I won't bother you any longer with mistakes I've made in the past, so let me just get to the point of this letter. I need you and only you to support the wedding and supply your finest creations to the (probably) event of the year for me. I know this might sound a bit foolish of me, but I trust you, meaning no one of my children will even dare to bribe you to lace the food or wine with poison._

_Love and happiness has finally entered my life, after so many years. After so many years of torture and pain, I've finally learned to appreciate life again. And it feels too precious to let it slip by. Not even now. I would be forever grateful if you would do me the honour and bring some of your best caterers with you and make this wedding the most memorable events of all time. _

_I also think I ought to inform you, many famous guests will be invited to the wedding, including, already familiar young lad to you, Tim Huttington. He is my eldest daughter's "current" partner and she insisted on bringing him with her. What choice did I have?_

_Thank you for your perpetual kindness, benevolence and generosity accompanying you with every step you take. I will be forever grateful for all the kind things you've done for me, during my dark era. I cannot repay you, ever._

_With love,_

_Samantha Patmore_

With the last words finishing the letter, I immediately thought of crumpling the letter I was holding, but then a very wise thought came to my mind – this is still Mr Sosa's property and if he noticed a slight curve that was not a consequence of his own palms, I'm positive he'd give the whole room slaughtered.

"Is that... Isn't this-"

"Yep." Tanya interrupted.

"But how-"

"Don't know. Been trying to figure out that one, but I seem to be out of luck. Chen is a very mysterious man, you see. He's hard to read. Even for me."

My mind went somewhere else the moment I've come to realize I'm doomed. I tried to evaluate all the possibilities and most-likely-to-happen scenarios and in general just what to do with myself. To be honest, I knew Mr Sosa would never pick neither of us before his excellent cooks and assistants. He would never give us that much pleasure. He always made sure he kept reminding us who's in charge here. And he did a very good job in that.

"I don't think he'll pick us, you know. I mean there are so many others..." I said after a while.

"Yeah, he's probably most likely going to pick Susan or Bren. They're both almost overqualified, in that matter. But they're the best professionals he's got. If he takes them, he'd still have the second assistant to leave in charge and a bunch of labourers to do the hard work _and_ waiters."

Tanya made quite a good point. The only thing left bothering me was that Mr Sosa knew. He knew all about Mr Huttington's and my little scandal we caused. An outrage, a fiasco. Total disgrace to the company. He accepted my request under one condition. To have my spirit cleaned. I guess the guy followed his own personal mantra, though I'd never say he's a soft little religious guy beneath his majestic armour of fat.

"But what if he'd pick me just to torture me? What if he would do all of this to force me to atone for my sins?"

"Then you're not going alone," Tanya optimistically replied to a rhetorical question, but I'm glad she did so. She friendly tapped my shoulder as she escorted me out of the place. Before she spoke again, she made sure no one was around to hear us.

"I'll stand by you, even if times get hard. You know I'm here for you. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do," I replied as if it was something completely natural to have someone say that to you. But once I thought about it, besides having Sarah, I don't recall anyone devoting me such kind words.

"Look at me," she stopped at once and took both of my shoulders in her hands. "You _need _to realize that. Not because you mustn't take me for granted, but also because you need to know there are people who would fight for and with you. You mustn't let that Asian man beat you at that. Or the fancy one, doesn't make a difference. You have to accept that fact so you could feel more confident in your skin. Because you deserve that for your own good."

Maybe I did take her and her loyalty as a friend for granted. Also Sarah's, if I'm completely honest. I didn't comprehend the idea of someone putting so much effort and trust in me that I eventually thought of myself as unworthy of anyone's attention or affection. Not to mention love.

"I really appreciate that, Tanya. I admit I needed some sort of comfort or assurance that somebody's got my back. I just feel so weak and exposed all the time," I said gently.

"It's okay to feel like that from time to time. But more important from acknowledging that, is that you know you have someone you can trust. For trust is not a sign of weakness. It's a sign of mental strength and power. Once you accept that about yourself, no one can harm you. Remember that."

With that she finished with her little spirit-lifting speech, took me by the hand and dragged me to the terrace of the building. It had ten floors and the view was more than magnificent. It gave you wings. An ability to even reconsider your entire life and decide on some life-depending choices you may never conclude under other circumstances. It was one hell of a view, I tell you that.

"It's more peaceful here, that's all," Tanya explained the dragging across the dining hall.

After that neither spoke anything for the next fifteen minutes. We both enjoyed the slow sunset, saying its last goodbye to the city. To the city we both admired, loved and despised and hated at the same time. None of us possessed the knowledge of how is that possible.

The graceful silence could have continued if the woman in charge, as we called her since we refused to call her boss, hadn't interrupted us during our mental meditation and yelled us for slacking off. She even threatened with telling Mr Sosa about that little incident. Once we turned around to face her with our boring expressions, her seeming courage vanished in a glimpse.

We returned to our work premises and continued without talking. Not because of the woman in charge, but because the silence we shared at the terrace gave us both a lot to think about. I didn't have a clue about what might have ran through Tanya's head, but I'm sure she spoke from experience back then. Someone had to suffer through quite a lot to have such wisdom caring around in the world and sharing it among others. I knew I was pretty lucky to have run across such person as her. Our little friendship might seemed as if I broke all of my connections with Sarah, but only now I've realized how important relationships within a company are. How you are always able to maintain them and taking care of them, when making friends outside your job or meeting a random stranger and still keeping in touch with them is actually quite a challenge.

Even if this job wasn't really my dream job and not even close to what I would like to do for the next thirty years, I was determined to keep this one even if just for a little while longer. I wanted to keep in touch with the people here and the pay check was firm as well. I wasn't ready to abandon yet another promising job due to my lack of professional behaviour. I wasn't ready for another painful and shameful walk through thousands of memories.

* * *

**A/N: I am extremely sorry for the delay or posting rather rarely lately, but things have been rushing up so fast. I am quite happy, though, to see I've managed to write off this one pretty well. I'd appreciate some opinions :)**

Till the next time...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mr Sosa was gone for four more days, and when he came back he didn't show any delight whatsoever of seeing his employees again. I didn't expect any special greetings from the man in person, but once he called my name across the empty hall at six in the morning, my insides froze. I said to myself he probably only needs me for some business-related things since there was no assistant available at the moment to speak to of this matter he wanted to talk about. His unreadable gaze was following my rapid walk towards him and my shoes annoyingly clattered and echoed throughout the entire hall.

Each move I made, the closer I was to him, the more it got uncomfortable and awkward. He was up to something, but not knowing what that was made me shiver. Him being so quiet was not as surprising as the things he said after I got close enough to him.

"Good morning, Julia," he greeted me and grabbed my shoulder. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, thank you," I replied shortly, avoiding any unnecessary small talk.

We continued the walk to the office in dangerous silence, smile never leaving his mouth. Once we both entered through the door, his hand pointed to the chair, commanding me to sit down. I obeyed without saying a word.

"I know all of this might seem a bit strange to you. You might wonder what you've done wrong. I can assure you, you've done nothing against my rules," he chuckled sweetly. A good start, I guess.

"Quite on contrary, to be honest. You've shown some great work here. I am proud you've found yourself useful and enjoy spending time here. Now, I have big, big news to tell you."

When he said that 'big' word, my stomach twisted. His eyes widened and that meant no good. I was skilled enough at reading his occasional signs that he was going to enjoy what he had in store for me.

"I'm sure you've heard of Lady Potmore before, am I wrong? The famous painter and owner of the luxurious gallery at the end of the street two blocks from here. Anyway, we've done some great deal of work for her so far and she gave us some high recommendations. Mostly that's what has got us that far. She's getting married this time," he thoroughly explained and joined his fingers.

"Again?" I blabbed out of the blue, but immediately covered my mouth after saying that. I was positive Mr Sosa had no idea I wasn't truly keeping up with the artist and from where I got that information then. But it was still a daring thing to do. "Pardon me."

"No, no, please don't apologize. When she wrote me the letter I was just as surprised as you are right now. But I don't see nothing wrong in being that lucky for finding love for the third time, I trust you think the same. Some of us may have never tasted that and know how to appreciate that." Now his eyes turned soft and boyish, and I felt sorry for him.

"I absolutely agree with you."

"To cut to the chase, finally," he suddenly changed the topic and the sound of his sharp, bossy voice dragged me back to reality. "She asked me to be her service at the wedding. She also asked of me to bring my best caterers and waiters with me. Meaning people, who have shown excellent work thus far. See my point?"

My mind seemed to have wondered away, to some fictional place where there are no caterers and no annoying, demanding celebrities and their stupid, silly little weddings to serve at. It was unfair and cruel of him to have asked (or more like command) this of me. I knew from the start I would have no choice, not even the authority to oppose the great man. If I look at this from certain aspect, I was flattered he chose me, but at the same time I wasn't sure if all this wasn't some sort of sick joke. You never know what's going on inside that guy's head.

"I... I don't know what to say, sir. I don't think I could rise to the opportunity, if I may be upfront with you. I mean, I'm sure you have plenty of other employees, fairly more qualified than me, and I think I'd be unfair to choose me over them."

My answer sure wasn't what he had in mind, but it was daring and judging his expression, he was pleased with its diplomacy and determination. Maybe I wasn't the best employee judging my status and performance, but I was brave and was prepared to defend my argument. As far as I remember, I still possessed that right.

"I can see what you mean. I also understand why it's bothering you, but you can trust me. I have a very good reason behind choosing you for the main caterer," he assured me, but I still thought he didn't quite understood my point.

"If making sure I'll bump into Mr Huttington is your just cause for doing so, then I can tell you straight away that I'm quitting this job tomorrow."

His loud laugh had me at the edge of my nerves. I understood he was the boss, therefore he had the right to tease me any time he pleased, but this was just too much.

"You may think this is funny, but seeing Mr Huttington's disappointed and rather offended face once again is no joke to me," I retorted.

"I don't care if you're nothing but a whiny little wuss who can't do her job properly, but you are doing this if you ever wish to have another job in your life again. Speaking of new jobs, have you forgotten about my condition I told you to execute when you got accepted? Never take me for granted, Mrs Grady. For God will always prove you otherwise."

That guy and his silly gods and penances. I wasn't motivated enough to even read on Wikipedia what his god was all about, but judging his way of penance/punishment, he seemed like a sadistic, grumpy guy who never had any luck with people so he decided to become god one day so people will _have _to obey him and follow his rules. I wasn't being disrespectful to his religion, I just think it's pathetic and maybe even disrespectful of him to involve my semi-personal life with his extremely personal life which had nothing to do with me or my job here. But at the time I had no choice. If I refused this job back then, I don't know where I'd even sleep. Most likely at Sarah's, but I would even dare to ask her that myself.

Just after my anger has cooled down a bit and Mr Sosa left me alone in his office for he had to greet his "loyal" employees, I started to think about all the things I'd say to Mr Huttington if I would bump into him, which I really hope not to. Seeing his sad face again wasn't the only thing bugging me. It was that sentence the lady wrote. That one sentence that distracted me most of all. _"… he is my eldest daughter's "current" partner and she insisted on bringing him with her." _What did she mean by "current"? And how come he even made time to have a girlfriend? In one of his latest interviews I read he currently isn't looking for any attachments or relationships, for he is extremely busy with his new film in the making. So what was all this about? Did he know Mr Sosa was one of the Lady Patmore's top chefs and knew about my employment here? No. No way. That was not only too risky to think of the man, but also too cruel. He'd never do that.

The next day, when I got my ten-minutes break, I immediately called Sarah to tell her the news. As always, she seemed to have had her phone stuck to her palm since she answered right after the first beep. But once she greeted me, it wasn't me who begun to speak outrageously.

"Thank god! I thought I'm never going to her another word from you! I thought about calling you myself, but I remember you saying to me very straightforwardly that your current job is a serious thing going on right now and you don't intent on losing it. Smart girl. Anyway," she finally took a breath and then continued with full steam ahead. "Have you heard about that famous wedding that it's about to happen next month? Well, let me just say that lady is indeed in a hurry."

"That was exactly what _I _was planning on telling you about. If, of course, you'd let me," I finally got the chance to say something myself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear! Go ahead, go ahead, I'm all ears."

Then I begun to explain her every single little detail from yesterday morning, which was accompanied by Sarah's occasional sighs or sounds of approval and total agreement. Eventually I had to come to the part when dear Mr Huttington steps into the story. I couldn't get around that in any way. She would've found out anyway.

"And one more thing..." My voice didn't seem to be quite supportive as well of what I was about to say.

Sarah didn't say a word, for she probably sensed I was in mental preparations for the next few moments. When the courage finally came, I didn't intent to hold back.

"Mr Huttington's invited to the wedding. And I'm completely, utterly petrified." The words seemed to be leaving my mouth as if they were something completely ordinary and casual. Though my heart was saying otherwise.

She, once again, this time she did not choose a very convenient moment, didn't let out a word.

"Please, say something. You're the only one who can give me hope and strength right now," I heard myself saying. I sounded way too desperate. Thank god Sarah didn't really bother accusing me of being a sissy from my voice alone, but she did, however, lecture me about my very weak choice of words, which was practically the same thing.

"You can't go down there saying things like that. You just can't. That's step number one. Dismiss all the negative thoughts out of your head. Puf!" I heard her snap her fingers and say those dumb words.

"If it were that easy..."

"It is, my dear, it is! Oh come on, name the worst thing that could happen," she replied rather optimistically. How could I be surprised?

"Well, for a start, he could humiliate me in front of the whole high society that's going to be gathered there, let alone Mrs Patmore herself. They'd all laugh at my childish failure and the shame I brought upon the company. Now nobody will buy another magazine ever again and it's all my fault."

"Yeah, about that... The sales of our weekly issue has grown quite a bit since your departure." My heart started beating faster and Sarah noticed that. "Before you say something you might regret in the past, let me just inform you that Mr Chapple has resigned."

Now I was speechless. George has resigned? My George? How was that even possible? He lived for that thing and the rush and the adrenaline. From when I last saw him, I couldn't even imagine his hypocritical face and his gigantic ego take such defeat like having to resign. Or was it his own idea?

"Who made him do it? Who had the most of it?"

"He's replaced by Janice Morgan, I think. She's- no." Her breath seemed to be caught in her chest, before she was finally able to speak again. "You don't think... Did you mean she... You know, forced George to leave now that you're gone? That couldn't possibly be."

"I think it's quite possible, you know. I learned to trust no one, and never trusted that ginger bitch as well and now I think I might actually have a reasonable doubt."

"Don't be silly," she kept on with her part of the story. "She's a quiet, innocent little reporter who has no social life whatsoever, but to live it for the celebrities."

"Seems like a perfect cover, doesn't it?" I immediately jumped in.

"Oh just snap out of it. I think that little conspiracy you've been going on inside that head of yours is clouding your judgement quite intensely. Before we have any kind of proof of her disloyalty, we cannot blame her," Sarah defended her standpoint.

The minute she mentioned Janice's name as her superior from now on, I knew something smelled here. This couldn't be even among the most desperate choices the company could have had left, because there were like at least twenty people more capable, mature and hard-working than her. I might have came to contradict myself from what I've said previously about her, but like I also said before – I never really trusted anyone.

"Just tell me one more thing; who put Janice on this position? She could've never put herself up there herself, otherwise the whole world would be nothing but chaos," I asked one more time, this time my voice was no longer playfully curious or childish. This time it was serious and low, as if I were discussing a murder of someone.

"She... Well, we kind of... voted?"

"How do you mean voted?" I understood nothing.

"As normal people vote; we had a box of names, and then each and every one of us had to write down a name on a piece of paper and put it in there. It wasn't a simple choice, believe me." Sarah sounded something close to relieved. Was she burdened by something? Was she hiding me something?

"How come everybody voted Janice? Isn't that a bit suspicious?"

"Well, later, when we were discussing it, we all agreed that she seemed the least capable of bringing this company to the ground again. Lots of grudges have been made, but in spite that, we came to conclusion that our newspaper is safe once again. No offence."

"None taken. I see," I sighed after realizing Sarah's probably telling the truth. I understand her, though. All of them, who still worked there, were so confused by the latest twist of events that clear judgement wasn't among the top things expected of them. I'm sure Janice was quite thrilled to be sitting on that throne, though.

* * *

Days were flying by, clients rolling in and more work came with them. Everybody obviously felt the tension and excitement in the air due to the famous wedding drawing nearer and nearer every day. Every employee was more careful and quibble over petty matters, just in case if the glorious samurai (as I found myself calling Mr Sosa every now and then) would caught them in action. I sort of felt sorry for them, because I would gladly surrender the one-time opportunity to them, but that meant losing my job, so that choice was out of the question.

I hated the idea itself of having to attend that stupid wedding. I mean, the whole country knows she's going to divorce once again, pick up the leftovers and start over. With a new guy. A rich guy, I almost forgot. That's not how the old witch first started her admiring career, though. She used to be a respected artist! She still owned some galleries down the street, but otherwise she was provided with so much wealth that even years after her death, her descendants shall live off of it.  
Anyway, that thing bonding her and Mr Huttington just didn't make any sense to me. Either was he lying to the media or he has truly found the love of his life. Somehow just the thought of him settling down, having kids and all that, made my stomach twitch. My gut was telling me there's something wrong about it, yet my mind told me to just let it go and leave it as it is. I'm sure he didn't need any more drama that has already entered his life. Thanks to me.

I also feel the need to mention that the media has grown quite fond of me. Still I couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. Most likely a bad thing, since all they seemed to be writing about is how I tarnished the little company's innocent, pure reputation and ruined their dreams of becoming a successful newspaper company. Well, first off, I think I could teach them a thing or two about writing long ass columns on "objectively" criticizing a journalist. Second of, I think the best person to know what sort of dreams that company had was either me or Mr Chapple, my former boss. Wow, that hurt.

"So," Mr Sosa suddenly appeared behind me, obviously inaudibly walking in the room where I was doing my ordinary work. "Are we all set for Friday?"

He slowly leaned on the counter and I tried to ignore his staring black eyes, pointed directly at mine. It was slightly uncomfortable, but I had to keep my mouth shut or I'll hear it all over again.

"Yes, of course, boss," I replied indifferently.

Of course, the great samurai sensed the tension in my voice, but he also had to confirm his theory of me being really nervous.

"Something on your mind, Mrs Grady?" he implied with fake tender voice, but his sharp accent changed the whole idea of acting kind and emotional. As if he had any emotions.

"Nothing at all, boss. Why you ask?" I tried very hard for my face not letting show anything what was going on inside my head. Which was a total disaster and a mess of feelings and emotions colliding, mostly with pictures and images of that guy stabbed.

The samurai moved a bit to get a closer look on my highly concentrated face and I even felt the smile on his thin lips. His annoying chuckle followed along with his even more annoying voice.

"I understand you're in a difficult position," he started and I flinched at how accurate the words sounded. But he couldn't even possibly understand. "You have to realize it's a part of your life, dealing with things you do not wish to face. Life worth living starts outside that little comfort zone of yours."

He patiently waited for my response or even a tiny reaction, but when he realized he waited in vain, he continued with the most rational voice he was capable of at the moment.

"Mr Huttington shouldn't be an obstacle between who you are and who you want to be. He could be some sort of inspiration, but I highly doubt that. Nonetheless, the main thing is, you have to come to that point yourself. It's easier than you think. You're stronger than you believe, braver than you appear."

The latter words forced me to remove my sight from the pile of dirty dishes and my hands in them for the first time. What was with everyone these days, trying to get me somewhere everybody knew I had no chance in getting and forcing me into thinking things I didn't believe in. I knew they were only trying to help me get pass this truly unpleasant period, but seeming courage is still worse than fear.

Mr Sosa's lips stretched into triumphal smirk once I turned to face him. It wasn't that sort of smile when he got what he wanted like some five year old kid; he was truly proud of himself for getting my attention, as if he was happy for me or something. Was he only playing tricks with me or was he really trying to help me? That guy always left me in doubt.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said after an endless pause. He didn't seem to agree which was a bad sign.

"You, out of all people, know best what I'm talking about," he replied tenderly. "Look, I came here to put some courage in that silly little head of yours, because it sure isn't going to come itself from nowhere. The least I can do is help you getting there."

He then turned around, but I felt the need to stop him. "Getting where?"

"To being the best journalist the world has seen, of course," he answered, a grin splashing his face.

* * *

The clock in the black van which belonged to Mr Sosa's company just went 6:28 AM. The chauffeur named Dan, my friend Tanya and a few others were on our way to the infamous wedding of the century. Precisely, we were only a few meters away from the staff entrance. Mr Sosa preferred driving on his own. I believe he said he has to get emotionally and mentally prepared for the event. I couldn't agree with him more. Though I did feel sorry for the guy; he knew the bride personally, which meant putting up with the typical annoying behaviour. But according to the fact he accepted the incredibly nice invitation from the lady herself, he must owe her big time.

The driveway led us directly to the big white tent right behind Mrs Patmore's mansion she inherited and the same mansion she fought would fall into the right hands of her greedy children. The house (or shall I rather call it palace) was impeccable. Unlike the lady's indecisiveness on which man to marry that would not die within three years of marriage, six tops, she had taste in outdoor décor and it filled me with excitement just to think about what the inside of this castle must look like.

Mrs Patmore wasn't totally and utterly intolerable, but she indeed had her specialities about which she felt such generosity, she necessarily needed to share with us, pathetic mortals. Though I haven't met "Her Majesty" personally, I heard quite a lot about her in the papers, therefore also her family. Her children aren't the best influence on her, but she kept her inner strength from breaking under the weight of the pressure her kids caused her. Speaking of her children, Mr Huttington's face flashed in my mind. I felt a knot in my stomach, twitching against my will. I wouldn't really say I was worried for him from what I heard about the next generation of Potmore, it's just... Okay, I did worry. I always worry. But it wasn't I'm-in-love-with-you-so-I-worry kind of worry. It was simply a kind act towards another human being. But caring in my opinion always meant a sign of weakness.

Our team excited the van and helped carrying the folding tables and everything else that belonged on that table and whatever else came along with that. I was being handed an armful of silver trays and the tableware. I didn't feel the need to complain, since Tanya was busy with three gas bottles necessary to prepare fresh food that the lady distinctly ordered. She wouldn't want to disappoint her dear guests, so I completely agree with her. I rushed to the lawn where some things have already been prepared for us to do our work, so I just placed everything I held in that moment on the white tables and ran back to the driveway to help out Tanya.

"Here, let me help you," I offered help.

"Oh thank you," she breathed as I took one of the bottles in both of my hands. They were indeed very heavy.

"Just because I'm partly Russian doesn't mean I have superpowers," she jested and we both laughed, but completely went silent once we saw Dan, who also liked to call himself the leader of our expedition when Mr Sosa was not nearby, shooting us a deadly look. The minute he passed us by very slowly and carefully, we once again burst into childish laughter.

Once we delivered all the bottles under the folding tables, we rested our hands on our hips and looked around for the first time. The lady's home was located somewhere in golden mean between the city and the countryside, somewhere most of the media was too lazy to travel to. It was a magical place, surrounded by the mighty Dorking hills. She chose the location well and Tanya and I both appreciated the fresh air after a long time spent in the city.

We appreciated nature way too less than it really should be appreciated. My work occupation has gotten me on the edge of my nerves and patience, I didn't even make the time to look around and realize what's surrounding me. The beauty that was slowly disappearing right in front of our noses. It was partly depressing, yet I knew deep down there was no way I could ever even think about vacation back then.

"Hey, you two, back to work! Go on!" we heard Dan shouting and we could recognize pride hidden in his voice. He just couldn't resist the temptation.

It was about noon now and everything was pretty much already prepared for the ceremony. I've personally never been to one of these things, let alone a fancy wedding of some lady. But still I knew exactly why Mr Sosa chose me. It was practically written all over his face when he said the words. He wanted me to confront Mr Huttington. He _needed _me to. In some way I'm thankful for that choice he made, forcing me to clean my spirit of sins and all, but on the other hand I'd give anything to avoid those sharp blue eyes staring into yours with such intensity you could barely move afterwards.

"When do the guests arrive again?" I asked Tanya who was sitting next to me on one of the chairs behind the folding table for the staff, amazing food in our sight, yet we weren't allowed to touch anything.

"Two," she replied curtly.

She had her eyes fixed on something and even though I was observing her bored and serious face, she didn't seem to flinch once. I followed her gaze and found Mr Sosa talking to one of the organisers of the event. Their hands flew everywhere around their bald, egg-shaped heads and their eyes seemed really worried. It was like she was trying to catch a word or two, but I knew that wasn't possible since they were like fifty meters away from us, yet nothing could interrupt her, even my several coughs to give her a clue or two she needs to return to the living now and then.

After three more coughs she got the message and snapped: "What?"

I was frightened by the dangerous spark in her colourful eyes. "I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, but she just shook her head in reply.

"Don't be, please. I am the one that should be sorry. I was just watching that asshole over there," she said afterwards and nodded to the two gorillas arguing across the lawn.

"Yeah, I noticed. What's up?"

"Nothing really. It's just he dragged me to so many events like this one before. He knows how much I hate public and the media and all the rich people wearing their fancy clothes, yet he still finds an excuse to torture me. I simply hate that," she answered sadly.

"Why would he ever want to do that? Torture you?" I said, looking up to her, but her eyes didn't move.

"I have unpleasant history with this man." She took deep breath before continuing and I sensed it's going to be a long story. We had two more hours before the first guests start to show up so we had pretty much nothing else wise enough to do than gossip about our boss. "To be honest, I was just like you. In my twenties; young and foolish and naïve. No offence."

"None taken," I silently replied and let her go on. I was really wondering what she got to say.

"Anyway, it was barely my eighth month working here and he already sent me to some business event we were ordered to go. He was taking his rookies back then, but I have no idea what change his mind this time. But he did have one thing in common with today's Chen. They were both obsessed with their religion. Nonetheless, it was all pretty much the same than here, the process. Yet there was one thing we, rookies, were exposed to that no one ever warned us about. It was our clients."

After the last sentence she sighed quite desperately and loudly, making an impression like she was about to say something that's been burdening her for quite some time.

"As you probably imagined, I got involved with one of those business men who we served to. I wasn't shy and introverted back then. I was twenty-one and willing to do just anything to get into the big world. Among _real _people you know?" I nodded. "But turns out, he only used me to prove Mr Sosa, who just happened to be his worst enemy ever (lucky me), that he's got nothing but weak and fragile lonely _whores _serving them. He took it as an insult to their company and no one ever rang Mr Sosa for our services for a very, very long time. You can imagine what he'd done to me."

"Actually, I don't," I answered her confused. What was she hiding?

"Oh come on. Why do you think he accepted you in the first place? You see, he is no fool. He keeps track on this going on in the world. He might be insane, but he's not stupid."

Honestly, I still didn't see where this was going. The minute she saw bewilderment in my eyes, she continued rather bored. I suppose she expected a bit quicker perception on my part.

"He got you in because he wanted you to _repent. _You don't really follow the yellow press, do you?"

That was rather offensive, but I couldn't deny it. I did after all used to work in a company that wasn't the same as other press companies. We were cut from the world, shining outside this shithole everyone else seemed to be so obsessed with. And we weren't ashamed of that. I then shook my head in Tanya's question that seemed a bit rhetorical.

"Mr Huttington was already getting quite hot with that lady Patmore's daughter right during the week of your little incident. Besides that, it was firmly known that the lady herself has found herself a new boytoy as well and the news were flashed with the pictures of her engagement ring. Connecting these two, Mr Sosa was counting on the wedding before it was even announced, right in the time when he received your job application. It is no coincidence he sent you on this mission as well. See my point?"

It was already clear to me that Mr Sosa did not have a healthy or even stable mind. It already was clear to me that he had a sick obsession with his traditional religion. It was already clear to me this was his punishment for my sins I've made in the past, it was all already clear to me as a day. But one thing wasn't. Was he really that _twisted _to have all of this already planned months in advance? It was sick and unbeliveable at first, but everything Tanya said matched. Even chronologically. It all made sense, even though I wished it didn't.

"Why would someone do this? Who would be _this _vengeful?" I asked after a while.

"He did the same thing to me. The whole penance thing, it's his wont. And don't expect him to let go until you do what he wants you to do."

"I'll see Mr Huttington anyway, what else can I do? I mean I have nothing to say to him, he made that one very clear," I said rapidly. But after a few seconds of staring into her eyes I saw something I wish I didn't. "No way. Na-a. I'm not doing this, no freaking way. Do you realize how awful I feel just thinking about that guy? I don't want to make a total jerk out of myself again!"

"Tell that to that jackass," she said, turning her head to the lawn again.

I went completely silent. She proved her point and she let me know there's no escape. Not now at least. It wasn't fair. I was supposed to be drawn away from the drama here, starting over and not hearing that guy's name ever again. I fully remember Mr Sosa's words about penance at the start of my job here, but I never took them seriously, thinking it's just some superstitious stuff. I learned my lesson, I should have taken him seriously. My mind was so filled with that actor's face and his words and sass that I didn't have time to think forward, only blinding myself with the idea of leaving my past behind. Now I see there's no way of getting out of it without any _real _consequences.

But suddenly, all the regret and pain was immediately replaced with anger, wrath and revenge. That guy deserved _his _penance as well. He could do things like that in the name of faith all he wanted, but one day he'd have to take responsibility for his actions that ruined so many lives as well. There are no sinners and saints. We all have a past and we all have a future. There are just people who convince themselves they've done nothing but good in the past and then you just let Karma do her work instead. It saves you a lot of work and time.

I found myself trying to get away from that complicated white layered thing that was a chair and trying my best to stand up. Once I got on my feet, I felt a hand on my forearm.

"Don't do things you'll regret later," I heard Tanya whisper behind me.

I smiled mischievously and wrenched myself free from her grip, that wasn't exactly too tight either. She wanted me to let me go, but at the same time she wanted to just let things slide as they are meant to. But _those _things were already behind her. And it was not like I was trying to avoid my punishment in which I truly believe and trust Karma will do her job successfully, but it just didn't seem fair to me that I had to find out things this way.

"Trust me, I'll only give him the punishment _my _god wants," I said confidently and dashed off across the lawn towards Mr Sosa before she could disagree with me. Of course she did, she'll just never have the opportunity to explain why since she'll be too grateful for turning some wrongs into rights.

I was now moving dangerously close to the big man, but he and the organiser never really quit talking. I presume they just didn't see me or they had some serious things to discuss right now. As I drew nearer, my latter theory was confirmed. And I was not pleased at all.

"How many times do I have to tell you; we can't have guests arriving now when we have so much food to prepare!" My heart stopped beating. "I was strictly informed that the guests will be coming at two o'clock, which is one hour and forty-five minutes from now, so we could organize the preparations properly and in time."

"How many times do _I _have to tell you that the lady has changed her goddamned mind? It's not my place to discuss your business when you're not even doing it!" I heard saying the other guy.

"May I have a word with the lady?" Mr Sosa silently asked, his voice impatient.

"No, you may not. She is resting in her chambers, getting the last details ready," the man replied.

"And you're saying that's your job? Worrying when "the lady" is taking a freaking dump?"

The guy in black, who I recognized as the head of security and not one of the organisers which I'm sure rested their poor feet at the very moment of speaking, stepped closer and grabbed Mr Sosa's white uniform. His eyes were centred in his and as I watched him closely, I saw he didn't even once blink.

"You, my dear friend, are playing a dangerous game here. You know you're not winning this one, so I kindly suggest you gather your lazy-ass workers and start doing what you are meant to," he threatened.

"I kindly suggest you do the same," my boss snapped and fixed his collar. "The lady might need a hand with wiping her ass."

Before the security guard could let out another word, Mr Sosa turned to me, his eyes absent and blank. He roughly grabbed my shoulder and said, loudly enough for the guard to hear it: "Come on, Julia. We've got some work to do." We were then directed to the tent where Tanya was sitting and was comfortably watching the whole scene from the distance.

Right before we entered the white tent, Mr Sosa turned to me with serious face: "I need you to inform all your colleagues that we're not serving any food today. May they enjoy their free lunch. Oh, they can leave the cake, though. We wouldn't want the lady to waste such memorable moment, would we?"

He then winked, proudly straightened his back and flew pass me somewhere behind me. All I was capable of doing in that moment was hearing those words repeat one after another in my head and trying to fathom some sort of sense in them. I failed.

To even more so distract me during my intense contemplation, Tanya immediately showed up in front of me, giggling.

"You might find all of this funny as hell, but to be honest... He left me with enormous responsibility upon my shoulders," I said tiredly. I was not ready for this, let alone have the energy to face it.

"Oh my dear Julia, unbosom yourself to me. Let it go, just let it come out."

I couldn't really tell apart if she was joking on my expense at that moment or was she really trying to help me. I decided to answer on the first theory.

"You can make a fool out of me all you want. I'd really wish to see Mr Sosa telling those words to you instead."

"Okay, enough with the crack. I know this is nowhere close to what you've ever experienced and definitely not what you had in mind for today. To have your boss leave you high and dry. To having _our _boss leaving _all of us _high and dry. I feel ashamed and in utter agony just as you do. Try to believe me."

"If you would, then you'd help me out with this," I said with my eyes suddenly meeting with hers. I found sincerity and hope which was not present only few minutes ago. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just... I don't know what to do."

The words I said sounded so simple and humble, yet a greater, much more significant meaning was hiding behind them. I tried really hard to take them as easy as they sounded, but I simply couldn't. I couldn't handle two gigantic pressures at the same time, not here, not now.

"Of course I can help you, sweetie. Just tell me what to do," she answered after a while, but quickly enough to still have my attention that was starting to drift away. Somewhere safe and quiet with no angry security guards and mislead bosses. Somewhere away from here.

"Tell the team to start cooking and boiling everything they see as fast as they can. You too. I'll join you as soon as I can, but first I need to inform the lady about the short delay." My eyes were suddenly wide open, my mouth not trembling any more. I was the leader now. I had to save this situation before the lady would say the final word of the company's future. I had to save him, even though the only thing I'd like to do to him the most was cut his throat.

Tanya nodded and vanished into the tent without speaking a word. Her eyes were showing me she supported me all the way, only she was in a slight hurry at the moment. That gave me the required inner strength and courage to start walking towards the other way of the lawn to the back entrance of the mansion.

I've never in my entire life thought I'd be in this position I was right now. This was not what I was born to do. I was no leader, I was my own guardian angel and mine alone and not of others. Feelings of fear and courage ran wild through my veins, causing my heartbeat to rise dangerously high. I felt my hands sweat and another drop dribbled across my forehead. What will I find at the gates? Three armed men pointing at me for violating the lady's privacy? Will they have me arrested? _Oh for god's sake, why on earth would they have you arrested, you fool, _the voice crept. But it was right. As much as it was rational, it was also true. I had nothing to be afraid of and it was completely normal to stop by and say a few words to the future bride. Nothing too suspicious.

My fear was completely washed away once I saw the garden entrance empty and clear. I sneaked behind the ancient stony wall and wait for a few seconds to make sure no one saw me. I was wondering how many servants hid right on this spot in the history of this family before me. I was sure the number wasn't that small.

Once I heard no footsteps drawing nearer or gunshots, I decided to step into the building. The winter garden itself was a majestic compilation of exotic plants, beautiful and unique larch garden set covered in beige cushions and pillows, prehistoric white arches above the glass that revealed the bright sky and a door that led into another unknown room. I felt pleasant rush overcoming me and a slight shudder across my shoulder blades once I moved the white door. I saw nothing but a plain kitchen and a tea set.  
I continued my adventure when I crept across the small room to the old stairs. They were leading to another white door, open as the previous one. When I made sure I wasn't being followed or watched, I ran to the stairs and took two steps at a time. As I presumed, they were creaking but not in a creepy, spooky way, but in an annoying way and I wished it stopped. Eventually it did, once I got to the top of it. Now the only thing separating me from the main hall, as I gathered from the Downton Abbey scenes, was a few steps through that door. Things were getting pretty much serious now and I wouldn't want to do anything I wasn't completely sure in. That sort of decisions turned out very badly so far.

As I planned, I made a small step closer to the doorknob and flipped it softly. Before coming out entirely, I peeked out my head to observe the place. There was no sight of anyone coming down or up the stairs, from the dining room or through that door, although chaos around the house was what you'd usually expect if things at the wedding didn't go as planned. I didn't bother with wondering why the hall was empty, but I rather jumped across it and all the way to the ancient mahogany stairway. Again I took advantage of my quick legs and found myself on the next floor in a matter of seconds.

This time I did hear voices; whispers coming from a room about eight meters away from here, a shout from another at the end of the hallway. Judging the authority in the female voice, I presumed I found the lady. I moved slowly and carefully all the way across the hallway until I was only two rooms away from the one where Mrs Patmore was located. But the minute I straightened my posture and prepared myself, I heard a door slamming. I looked behind me and saw a maid holding bunch of sheets and pillows. We made a quick eye contact, but the other girl was the one to break it. She didn't say a word and neither did I. She must've recognized me as one of the caterers and not a nosy journalist, so she let me be and I was endlessly grateful for that kind gesture.

Now that no one else was around to threaten my position, I knocked on the door. I heard some feet moving up and down the room, but none seemed to be coming near the door. But then I heard the lady shout: "Who is it?"

"It's Mrs Grady, madam. I'm one of the caterers here," I started. "Mr Sosa sent me to tell you some important news."

After that I didn't hear any response, only whispers and noises I could not understand. Then suddenly some feet started to draw near me behind the closed doors. I felt a lump in my throat and a very unpleasant feeling in my stomach, similar to excitement although I wasn't near to excited. Maybe frightened to death would do.

I watched the old metallic doorknob turn and it all seemed like a slow motion. Thousands of thoughts rambled through my mind and I couldn't decide on one to focus, because at the same time I was wondering who'd open the door and how to address them and how to formally introduce the urgent matter to the lady.

But once the door did open, I saw the person I at the same time least expected to see, yet I knew our little "meeting" was inevitable. The person in front of me looked just as shocked as I felt and that gave me some sort of comfort, even though my mouth went totally dry and I was suddenly aware of the uncomfortable silence. It was eventually broken by the lady herself, when she ordered me to come in.

I couldn't help but stare in Mr Huttington's eyes while I was moving towards Mrs Patmore and I felt he wanted to do the same. I felt both unpleasant and glad I went through that so the occurance at the actual event in front of the whole media won't be as awkward.

"Mrs Grady," he greeted me finally and bowed his head a bit.

"Mr Huttington," I said and repeated after him.

The lady seemed rather bored while observing her well-done make-up in front of a mirror and I waited patiently until she decided to devote me her attention.

"What is it, child?"

I then explained her the whole thing; the quarrel between the guard and Mr Sosa, the news I heard and also what Mr Sosa ordered me.

"But I simply couldn't let that happen, right? I mean, you hired us to serve you and I thought it was extremely unprofessional of my boss to just quit on everything. It felt unfair and cruel. And I apologize on his behalf, madam."

All the people in the room (which included the make-up artist, two maids, Mrs Patmore's daughter Grace, her _partner _and the lady herself) were shocked at my response and apology. I could see in their eyes they weren't used to such manners and courtesy so I actually felt quite proud of myself.

"All right then. You," Mrs Patmore finally spoke and pointed on one of the maids. "gather all the staff and order them to start the ceremony a bit early. The priest and the choir and everything. And you, pick some of the guards to distract the first guests, I hope there won't be many coming any time soon now. Mrs Grady, I am very thankful for that information. You may go now and inform Mr Sosa that we'll talk later."

Her brown eyes were suddenly warm and she even made a quick smile which caused the skin around her eyes to adorably wrinkle a bit. She then turned on her chair against the mirror again and ordered the last few in the room: "Amelia, darling, I think I need a little bit of correction here at the corners of my lips. Grace, you can call your dear aunt to see if they're anywhere near here. I hope she doesn't even appear." She stopped before continuing and I felt my heart skip a beat. I knew there was only Mr Huttington left. "Thomas, dear, you can escort the young lady to her premises. Go on."

As soon as she left out those words I turned around and tried to get out of that room as soon as possible. Right before I could get through the door, I felt a hand slipping from my back down to my waist. I felt goosebumps all over me. "Right here," I heard a deep whisper and I flinched against my will. He felt it and squeezed the waist even tighter. I've had enough of that.

"I can find my way out, thank you," I said turning around to face him and putting down his hands. Thank god his girlfriend wasn't around any more to see this for it could bring up some very much fallacious suspicions.

I never really bothered to look back at his probably devastated face, but I didn't have the time. All that honestly ran through my mind was how to save this wedding from becoming a total disaster. I knew they needed my help in the kitchen so I sped up. When I was at the bottom of the stairs I gave up and decided to look back, but Mr Huttington was already gone. Now this was going just great so far.

* * *

**A/N: Hello again! I managed to update the next chapter in this month which is a great success for me lol! Anyway, I have two things to explain. **

**1. I know that thus far the plot itself might not be the most interesting or Tom-related as it could have been. But I promise you, everything happens for a reason. Meaning, things that are about to happen at the wedding will have a great influence on as Julia's as Mr Huttington's (Hiddleston) future. The destiny has united them once again so this is far beyond just coincidence, right? ;)**

**2. As you probably noticed, I replaced Mr Huttington's full name **Tim Huttington **into **Tom/Thomas Huttington. **Why? To be honest, I could easily write the story with the actor's true name, **Tom Hiddleston. **It's just that I found some stuff on the Internet saying that's not really safe, even though I am aware of many fanfics here who include his real name. I'm not yet sure about what's to happen with his role here or at least where it is taking him, but I don't want to take any chances, if you see my point. I know it's kinda hard to imagine, but I did my best :)**

**Anyway, I hope you like it so far; the adventure, secrets to unfold and the mischievous plot that will come out into the open all in its time. I'd love to hear your opinion so make sure to FOLLOW, FAVORITE, REVIEW, anything you like. I'd really appreciate that :)**

**Now, till the next time...**


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